


We're Not Normal

by fortheloveofwords



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic destiel, Family, M/M, Murder, Smut, destiel smut, okay theres only a little smut but you need to know about it anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofwords/pseuds/fortheloveofwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living in Sioux Falls with their lovely daughter was comfortable and sweet, something Dean and Castiel didn't want to give up.<br/>But when an old enemy returns and shatters their domestic life, no one is confident that they can get it back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Place Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure how to write summaries, so you'll have to forgive me. 
> 
> This fic is canon up until the end of season one, and then I led it off in a different direction that involves human!Cas. I know that sounds kinda weird and open-ended, but I explain it throughout the chapters. Feedback would be awesome. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

It had been a while since Dean Winchester had checked up on his favorite lady; his only lady, if he was going to be honest with himself. And she didn’t talk back, unlike the hopelessly irritating customers at the shop, who wanted their cars ready now and couldn’t wait until later it all had to be right now. He sighed, almost talking back to said customers out loud, but catching himself before he did. His reply was always the same to the nagging, whether or not his boss was too pleased with it: a smirk and a promise that they would be sorry if he rushed. That usually handled it as most of the people in Sioux Falls drove cars that were as old as his baby but not even close to her great shape. And still, the standard douches that failed time and time again to have any sort of patience would have their car worked on overtime, surely driving them nuts or teaching them a lesson.

“Okay,” Dean sighed, finally straightening up from his work, “ you are golden.” He shut the Impala’s hood and pulled the cover back over her.  
Stretching as he did so, the retired hunter made his way over to the short flight of stairs that led up to the main house, where he could already smell dinner waiting him inside. 

“Dean?” 

A voice had called out to him only a few seconds after he shut the door and was hanging up his jacket in the closet. 

“Yeah?”

The sound of footsteps came instead of a response as the closet door was shut, turning just in time to see a pair of practically luminescent blue eyes before him as a pair of warm lips met his own. Dean smiled into the kiss a bit before distancing the two of them only slightly. 

“Hey Cas.” 

“Hello, Dean.”

Their fingers were intertwined instantaneously as Castiel gently pulled his husband by the hand towards the kitchen where the blue-eyed man had previously been working away over a steaming pot. 

“What’s this?” Dean asked with a wide grin on his face as he peered into the pot. 

“Chicken soup. Jo wasn’t feeling well today.” 

Dean didn’t even need to look at Cas to see and fully understand the concern he was feeling; he reached for his partner’s hand, smiled and gave it a squeeze, wordlessly reminding him that she would be fine. 

“She’s in her room right now.”

Cartoon voices were pouring out of the six year-old’s bedroom as Dean ascended the stairs to the second floor and its five rooms: two bathrooms and three bedrooms, though one of them was being used as a storage room for the time being until the family could come up with an idea of how to use it. His and Cas’s bedroom was located at the far end of the hallway, directly above the kitchen while Jo’s was situated across the hall, closest to the staircase and one little blue bathroom. All of the rooms were small, he had realized earlier, but that was probably what he liked about it so much; the small rooms felt warmer than a big open space, and it just wouldn’t feel like home if you didn’t have to elbow past someone on your way to the bathroom. Dean knocked on his daughter’s door lightly before pushing the already ajar door open and stepping inside. 

“Daddy!” The little girl squealed, no longer paying attention to the tiny TV mounted on top of her dresser. 

“Hey, kiddo.” Dean couldn’t help but smile at his baby girl - she had just turned six a month ago, but she still looked like the tiny baby they adopted years ago. 

He carefully maneuvered his way over and around the toys she had somehow strewn just about everywhere, even after Cas had worked so hard to keep everything neat and orderly only a week ago. He swallowed the urge to tell the little girl that she needed to clean it back up, she wasn’t feeling well after all. 

“Papa told me you’re not feelin’ so good?” Dean did his best to sound soothing, Cas was better at it though, and they both knew it. 

“Yeah.” Jo pouted, folding her skinny arms across her chest.

The two sat like that for a while, Jo’s attention returning to the kid show she was watching before her dad had walked in, Dean absent-mindedly began staring at the wall beside the TV, his arm around Jo, still zoning out a bit. 

When he came back from wherever it was his mind went when it took its breaks, he rubbed his eyes, not sure whether to be grateful or annoyed that it was so warm in the kid’s room. 

“Daddy?”

“Hm?” Jo’s little voice caught his attention once more.

“Are you okay?” 

The little girl’s curious grey-blue eyes stared up into his own green, and he smiled down at his baby girl, ruffling her tousled blonde curls. 

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m tired too, kid.” 

She nodded her understanding and looked like she was about to say something in return, as she had given up on her cartoons too, apparently. But she didn’t say anything, only squirmed around under her fuzzy green blanket and rested her head against her daddy, gently nuzzling into him. 

A few rapid but soft knocks at the door sounded seemingly out of nowhere, revealing Castiel in the doorway with a smile on his face and a certain warmth in his eyes that Dean couldn’t decipher. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dean shook his head, glancing down at Jo whose attention was now on him. 

“Dinner is ready when you are.” 

Dean stood up, sending his most pleasant but tired smile Cas’s way as he headed towards the doorway. 

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?” He turned around, still not dropping his tired smile.

Jo merely raised her hands up towards her dad, her excited little face silently asking to be carried. 

“Don’t you think you’re getting a little old for this?” 

“Nope!” 

Dean couldn’t help grinning all over again as he scooped his baby girl up and followed Cas down the stairs, her warm little hands hanging onto him.


	2. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After putting Jo to bed, Castiel cuddles up to Dean, only to discover how sleepy he is too.

Carefully standing up from Jo’s bed, Castiel made sure not to let the mattress squeak and wake up the little girl again. Every time she would get sick, he marveled, her heavy sleeping habits, much like Dean’s on his day off, would be broken. The sleepy child that he would practically had to drag out of bed every morning before school would wander into their bedroom at three in the morning whimpering that she couldn’t sleep.   
Slipping the hefty stack of children’s books back into the shelf where they belonged, Cas smiled, remembering how quintessentially perfect his daughter had been as a baby. She was the tiniest baby you’d ever seen, with wide, watchful grey-blue eyes and soft, loose curls on top of her head; he suppressed a chuckle at the memory of Dean comparing their little girl’s blonde tresses to Sam’s mop that he called hair. Fortunately, it had grown out since, becoming the curse of weekday mornings for whichever parent got to help her forcefully pull a brush through it and she learned to talk and walk in record time, according to other families in town. 

If they were going to be truly honest with themselves, Jo was their blessing, plain and simple. 

“How was she?” Dean asked once Castiel had joined him on the couch, watching a TV drama that he wouldn’t admit his obsession with. 

“What you would expect,” he began explaining, glancing over at his husband. “she wouldn’t fall asleep until I read her numerous bedtime stories.”

“Ah.” 

Dean wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close as he ran his hand through the man’s dark hair.

Castiel allowed himself to be indulged in this manner, sighing and resting his head on Dean’s shoulder, lazily watching the program on TV. 

Eventually though, the lull of sleep began nagging on him, being pampered in this way not helping at all, and he dozed off.

~

“Cas?” 

He was being shaken gently, but it was enough to wake him up from his short slumber. Or was it even that short? What time was it? 

“Cas?”

“Mm?” Castiel barely managed to grumble in return, trying to blink away this cozy stupor. 

“Time for bed.”

Eyes fully open now, he managed to stretch out his legs and push himself off of Dean and up from the couch, though his legs wobbled a bit as he stood and a pair of steady hands reached out to catch him before he could stumble any further. 

“Careful, babe.” 

“Yes.”

Seeing that his partner was going to have trouble making it up the stairs after his clumsy display across the living room, Dean was instantly at Cas’s side, an arm around his waist to steady him as they approached the stairs. 

“Dean, I am more than capable of going up the stairs by myself.”

“Right. You also needed my help to get past the coffee table, so.” 

Without further protest, the pair managed to make it to the top of the staircase and into their bedroom with minimal assistance and grumbling until it came time to get dressed. Castiel, still hopelessly stuck in his staggering, heavy-eyed state, was able to get a wrinkled pair of pajama pants on the right way, but the shirt was proving to be rather difficult. He turned it over and over in his hands, trying to find the tag poking out the top that would tell him where the back was and where the front was. 

Dean laughed, helping the shirt over Castiel’s head after having gotten dressed himself. “Man, I thought I only had the one kid.” 

“Hush, Dean.”

Castiel could see his husband chuckle softly to himself and shake his head as they climbed into bed, and he couldn’t help but smile too. There was a certain light, a magnificent glow in his eyes when he laughed or was in a good mood. It was a contagious feeling that he didn’t mind and he scooted closer to Dean, gently kissing his stubbly cheek in thanks. 

“Good night, Dean.” 

Castiel felt the warmth of an arm around him in the next moment and he smiled, nuzzling into the tender heat.

“G’night, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to post these chapters at some sort of a pace, unlike the way I was doing on fanfiction.net, so hopefully this'll work out better! 
> 
> And don't be shy about leaving reviews -- I would love to hear what you guys think of this piece!


	3. Don't Lie to Me

Saturdays and Sundays were typically Dean’s days off and that was hardly ever a bad deal. Days off used to entitle getting to sleep in instead of getting up at the crack of dawn to go chase of a damned poltergeist with a shotgun loaded with rounds of rock salt and a bucket of holy water. Now they meant something different, something better: getting to stay in bed for hours unless Cas or Jo woke him up sooner.

And the reason Cas woke him up this particular Sunday morning? Church, naturally.

Dean groaned, “Cas, it’s like three in the morning.”

“No dear, it’s six forty-five.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Slightly less than four hours. Please get up.”

Dean groaned again, curling up on his side. How the hell were there such _things_ as morning people? And was duct tape effective in shutting them up or was bribery better?

Only a moment later, Dean was acutely aware of the squeak of their mattress and his partner’s presence beside his slumped form.

The green-eyed man could only turn his head towards his partner and squint through sleepy eyes, not exactly trying to familiarize himself with the brightness of the room for fear of having to get moving once he did.

“What are you doin’?”

“You often behave like a child when I try to wake you. So now I am forced to get you out of bed like one.” Cas smirked slightly, his eyes sparkling with the proverbial notion.

“No.” Dean growled in protest covering his head with the blanket.

“Yes.”

He could suddenly feel Cas’s hands at his sides, poking and tickling him until he was squirming around and stridently laughing, no longer trying to fight against his partner and the need to get going.

/

Jo tiptoed over to Daddy and Papa’s closed door, trying to be as quiet as possible. Her church shoes were loud though, and the little heels that she liked so much clicked loudly against the scuffed hardwood floor with every step.

She pressed her ear against their door, trying to hear what they were doing. She could hear their grown-up bed being squeaky, Daddy’s big booming laugh and Papa talking to him. It sounded like they were playing a game and Jo wondered what kinds of game they were playing.

Daddy had said before that grown-ups didn’t play games like kids did, but Jo didn’t believe that because they played tag and hide-and-seek with her before and they were good! Daddy was fast and always caught her when they played tag, but Papa always found Jo in her most sneaky hiding places.

One time Papa took Jo to the park after pre-school and pushed her on the swing and caught her at the bottom of the slide. Jo was supposed to use the baby swing then, the one that holds babies in the seat so they feel safe, but Papa let her use the big kid swing as long as she held on tight to the chains and didn’t squirm around too much.  Jo had just turned four then.

Daddy came to the park with them that day too, but he came later. He was at work before he showed up and Jo was so excited to see him! He picked her up – because Daddies and Papas are big and strong like that – and put her on his shoulders so she could see what the playground looked like from this high up. Everything looked a little bit smaller up here, but she knew how far away the ground was on top of Daddy’s shoulders, so she hung on as tight as she could while they walked home.

Jo blinked a few times, coming back from her daydream. Ms. Maysie, her kindergarten teacher always told Daddy and Papa that she was off in her own world too much. But Daddy and Papa didn’t seem to care about what Ms. Maysie said, and that made Jo happy. She didn’t like Ms. Maysie very much.

“Jo?” It was Papa and he was ready for church already. “What are you doing there?”

“Huh?”

“Why were you hiding behind the door?”

“I bet she was spying on us…” It was Daddy, with a smile on his face as he tied his tie.

“I was not!” Jo folded her arms across her chest in defense.

Papa just laughed and ushered Jo towards the stairs, holding her hand as they went downstairs. She could hear go into the bathroom and shut the door. Maybe he was going to do that thing he told her about once…what was it? Shaving? Yeah, that was it. Shaving. Daddy said that only men had to do that.

Papa set three spoons and three bowls on the kitchen table as Jo sat down and scooted her chair in. Pretty soon, there was a new box of cheerios and a carton of milk on the table as Daddy was coming down the stairs and walking into the room. Sometimes Daddy made breakfast for them, but he was a sleepyhead this morning, Papa told her, so they didn’t have as much time. It was okay though; cheerios were Jo’s favorite cereal and the honey part made the milk all sweet when you drank it.

When everyone was finished, Jo helped Daddy clear the table, filling the dirty bowls with water and putting them in the sink for after church. Papa was already waiting by the door to the garage and flipped on a light so they could see their way to the car. Daddy walked around the back of the car to the drivers’ side while Jo climbed into her car seat behind Daddy’s seat.

“Do I have to sit in the car-seat?” Jo pouted for an added effect.

“Yes you do.”

“But it’s such a short ride!”

“I know, dear, but you’re still not tall enough to sit in the normal seat.”

“When will I be tall enough?” Jo’s blue eyes met Papa’s and he smiled.

“Soon. I promise.” He finished buckling her up and stood.

Papa shut the car door and went around to his side. Jo could see the smile on Daddy’s face in the rearview mirror and she couldn’t quite understand why he was smiling. She would have to ask later.

/

Holding Jo’s hand as she walked between him and Dean, Castiel glanced down at her – she wasn’t really walking, more like falling behind every few steps and then jumping forward, trying not to land on any of the cracks in the sidewalk. He let his blonde-haired little girl carry on like this until they reached the doors of the church where he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and she stopped, understanding.

They were standing in the Parish Hall, where people were slowly filing into the chapel through the narrow doorway. Just as they were about to enter, Castiel noticed Dean’s presence being missing and he whipped his head around, trying to find where he might’ve gone.

“Papa?”

“Yes?”

Jo’s eyes met his, her tone calmer than he was about to feel. “Daddy went to the bathroom.”

“Oh.”

Castiel immediately felt foolish and guilty; was he really so untrusting of his husband even after all this time? No, not really. It was just that Dean had a habit of acting on impulses, and spontaneity wasn’t the best thing in all situations. But he had left in such a quiet manner, that even as he and Jo sat down in the chapel, he was simply bewildered by how he wouldn’t have noticed Dean’s absence sooner. Castiel was always highly aware of his partner’s company, except when his partner did not want to be. Was that the case? Had Dean tried to leave the room without his notice?

“Castiel?” A woman’s voice interrupted his frenzied thoughts.

“Y-yes?” He stammered, feeling a flush coming across his cheeks. It was their neighbor, whose name he was no longer remembering.

“I asked where Dean was? He’s normally with you and Jo, right?”

“Oh. He went to the restroom.”

She nodded and shot Castiel a concerned look before turning around to face the right way.

The priest seemed to glide out from some room in the back, standing before the churchgoers with a small smile on his face as he began the usual sermon.

Where was Dean? It had to have been at least twenty minutes since he went to the restroom, and knowing him, he probably hadn’t gone there in the first place. That was what was most concerning about his absence; the man wouldn’t wander off if he didn’t have a good reason… But the more and more Castiel tried to think of a valid reason for his disappearance, the fewer reasons came and the harder it was to steer his train of thought from the horrible possibility that Dean suspected some sort of supernatural evil was nearby and was investigating.

That thought only led Castiel into thinking of when he first discovered Dean’s old job, a fear-inducing, astonishing experience that he had merely tried to forget about but couldn’t.

Castiel was living in an apartment in Bismarck, South Dakota, where he was living temporarily while he looked for a job. When he moved in, everything in the building seemed to be fine and normal, at least until extreme electrical problems started happening all over the building, as well as several deaths that the police reported as murders. Determined to make this apartment work out unlike the last few, Castiel had stayed in the building one night after speaking with the landlord. He had apologized for any inconveniences in the electrical wiring and what not, promising that some guys had come in and fixed it up. In fact, Castiel had just gotten home from another day of job interviews when he heard a knock on the door. Naturally, he had gone over to the door, expecting to see his neighbor there asking if she could borrow something or wanting to chat, but instead found the cut and bloodied body of his neighbor with black eyes and a bloody knife in her hand.

“ _Cas!_ ”

Dean was kneeling beside the pew, staring at him with a confused expression on his face. Castiel scooted over, giving Dean enough room to sit down.

“Where were you?” Castiel whispered, folding his hands in his lap.

“Whaddya mean?” he whispered back, shooting him the same confused expression and folding his own hands.

“I mean, where _were_ you?”

“The bathroom. Didn’t Jo tell you?” He smirked a little.

“For forty-five minutes, Dean?” Castiel’s tone was ice, sharp and prickling.

Dean was silent.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

“Yes you–“

Several people had turned around and were staring, dumbstruck. Castiel gulped, his cheeks burning and lowered his gaze from their baffled faces to his shoes.

He remained silent for the rest of mass, biting his tongue every so often to prevent himself from talking again and creating a disturbance. He was able to hold this forced silence until they had gotten back home.

“Jo, why don’t you go play upstairs?” Castiel spoke softly once they were inside, standing in the kitchen.

“But Papa –“ He inadvertently clenched his fist, trying to restrain himself from barking at the child.

“Jo. You heard him, go on.” Dean piped up, looking Jo straight in the eye.

She nodded, a brief look of shame passing over her face before she ran up the stairs to her bedroom.

Once he heard Jo’s bedroom door click shut, Castiel turned to face Dean, taking a short step closer to him. “Dean Winchester, what have you gotten yourself into?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm so happy to see that this story has readers, but I would love to hear what you think of it.  
> Feedback of any kind is very much appreciated. :)


	4. Nothing to Worry About

_“Dean Winchester, what have you gotten yourself into?”_   
Dean was taken aback by the sheer ice in his partner’s tone and the matching bitterness and confusion in his blue eyes. What had he gotten himself into? “Nothing.”

Cas clenched his fist again; glancing down at the ground as if trying to think of some retort that Dean knew was coming, but it didn’t come.

“Then why do I not believe you?”

Dean swallowed; that was a good question. The questions Cas had asked while they were still at church had been good ones too, but what was there to say? He had really gone to the bathroom in the first place, but on his way there had noticed bits of broken stained glass all across the carpeted floor. When he had followed the trail of glass – not noticing the bathroom when he passed it – he easily found where it stopped: a locked door. It was probably only a closet, based on the fact that he had never seen anyone go into it for something other than cleaning supplies or toilet paper for the bathroom.

“ _Dean_.”

“What?”

“Answer me. What did you find?”

Dean shook his head, wanting to drop the matter as soon as it had picked up. How could he have gotten so distracted from his current life like that? Wasn’t a regular life, the apple-pie life with Cas and little Jo good enough for him? Wasn’t it good enough that he didn’t need to get so easily sucked back into hunting?

“It’s nothing that you need to worry about.”

The look that passed over Cas’s face, if only briefly, was heartbreaking to see. It sent him flying back to the first time he had seen him, in that apartment in Bismarck. Sam and Dean had swooped in around the corner of the hallway where they had been waiting for a potential attack on this floor. The demon or vengeful spirit that had been toying with the building was making its way up the floors, starting with the homes on the first floor. Now it was at level six, where Cas had been living. Dean had rushed forward at the sound of a slamming door, Sam at his heels. The spirit had possessed some middle-aged lady who was currently busting holes in the door and whacking at the lock with a butcher knife slick with blood. She hadn’t even noticed the Winchesters when she succeeded in severing the lock from the door and stomped forward, still brandishing her giant knife.

The brothers had sprinted after her, weapons in hand; Dean had expected to find her mid-swing at someone’s neck, creating a bloody mess that would later be reported as an unexpected and tragic murder. But instead of finding that, there was Cas, shaking and holding a baseball bat over his head, an unreadable mix of sadness, fear and alarm in his distinctly blue eyes while the figure of the lady lay on the ground in a heap of limbs.

That same face, minus the alarm, was the look on Cas’s face now and Dean immediately felt guilty. This was his fault: he had inadvertently and far too quickly brought that fear and sadness back to his husband without even trying. It was so typical of him though, to ruin someone so easily like that –people had walked out of his life left and right all the time, whether it be by their own conscious choice or not.

“Cas, look,” Dean started up again, taking a step towards him, attempting to reach for a hand that wasn’t there anymore. “you were right, I did find something, but I’m not going after it.”

The words sounded weird coming out of his mouth, as he knew full well that had he found this several years ago, there would’ve been no way that he would leave a case out in the open. But things were different now, so he had to. Maybe he could get Sam on it and–

“Are you sure?” The look on Cas’s face was more than quizzical, his head cocked slightly.

“Yeah.”

Dean smiled encouragingly at his partner before walking past him and up the stairs, shaking his head.

/

Jo didn’t want to go be by herself in her room, that was no fun. The only thing she wanted was for Papa to stop being mad at Daddy. She could tell when Papa was in a bad mood with someone because he got really quiet and if someone said something he didn’t like, his hand would ball up and his knuckles would be all white. It didn’t look like it felt good and Jo didn’t understand why he did that.

She had crept out of her room after about five boring minutes of trying to play with her toys and squatted at the top of the stairs behind the railing. She sometimes did this when she wanted to hear what Daddy and Papa were doing, and if they were standing in the living room and she was quiet, they couldn’t tell she was there.

They were talking quietly though, so Jo couldn’t really understand what they were saying, but Papa sounded mad. Daddy’s responses were softer and more tired than she was expecting, but eventually they both got really quiet. What were they talking about?

After a while, they weren’t even talking at all, just staring at each other. Were they talking to each other in their heads? Could they see Jo from here? She clutched the wooden railing, hoping that they still couldn’t see her spying on them.

Then she could finally hear them and what they were talking about confused her even more.

She could only hear the end of Daddy’s sentence: “ _I’m not going after it._ ” Going after what?

Another pause.

“ _Are you sure?_ ” It was Papa now.

“ _Yeah._ ”

They didn’t say anymore and Jo’s head was filled with a million different questions, but she couldn’t stop and think about them for very long: Daddy was coming towards the stairs!

Jo crawled across the hallway as fast as she could, her bare knees bumping against the floor as she reached her bedroom and closed the door almost all the way.

Daddy didn’t seem to notice though, and from the spot she was sitting in, behind the jarred door, she could seem clearly, walking slowly up the stairs. He looked very tired, much more tired than he was before they went to church. Why was he so tired?

He did that thing with his hand where he rubbed his chin like he was feeling his stubbly face, but Jo knew better. Daddy did that when he wasn’t feeling good, and she couldn’t figure out why he would feel like that. He walked straight into his and Papa’s room without closing the door behind him. Jo could still see him as he got his cell phone off the nightstand and dialed something into it.

“Hey Sam.”

Sam was Daddy’s little brother. Uncle Sammy sometimes visited at Christmas and he sent Jo birthday presents every year. He seemed like he was fun, but he was quieter than Daddy and he seemed to work all the time. So why was Daddy calling him?

“I’m fine, really.”

A pause.

“Yeah, but I’ve got a case for you.”

A case? What’s that? The only thing that Jo could think of for the word case was suitcase and that didn’t seem right. Why would Daddy have a suitcase for Uncle Sammy?

“The church we go to. Sioux Falls.”

Why was Daddy talking about church?

“Not sure. I found some broken glass, sulfur and a seriously busted supplies closet.”

A pause.

“Well I don’t know what it is, Sam, that’s why I’m calling you.”

Another pause.

“No, I can’t handle this one.”

Pause.

“Won’t.”

Short pause.

“Because Cas is worried about it, okay?”

Pause.

“Sam, shut up. Are you going to help me out or not?”

Pause.

“Good.” Daddy hung up and placed the phone back on the nightstand where it was before. Jo could see him lay back now, probably about to take a nap. He did that sometimes.

Only a few moments later, Jo heard another pair of feet start coming up the stairs: it was Papa. He kept rubbing his face and running a hand through his hair, as if he was trying to fix a strand that was sticking up really tall, but there wasn’t anything like that. His face was all red, Jo saw as he passed her door, heading into the bathroom. The door clicked behind him and a few seconds later she heard the shower turn on. Papa didn’t come out of the bathroom for a while, and when he was going back into his room, Daddy was on his way downstairs and they didn’t say anything to each other when they passed.

Jo hoped they weren’t having a fight.


	5. Not Your Wife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have you all know that I think I'm hilarious for naming this chapter what I did.

The rest of the week was fairly normal.

Following the argument, Castiel did not bother talking about it again, and neither did Dean. Castiel woke Jo up to go to school every morning and helped her get ready. Dean gave her breakfast and drove her to school while Castiel got ready. There were a few moments when Dean was returning from dropping Jo off and Castiel going to work at the office where they would smile at each other, share a quick kiss and be on their separate ways.

In the afternoon, Castiel picked Jo up from school and brought her home, helping her with her homework if she needed, and entertaining the child if she was done. Dean came home every night at six o’clock, more or less, took a shower and was downstairs and ready to join his family for dinner. Jo would help wash dishes with Dean and then they would either watch TV together or play a game of Jo’s choosing: she was partial to Go Fish. Following that, Jo would take her bath and Castiel saw that she went to bed soon after. He would sit beside her on the edge of the bed and read her a story. Sometimes that wouldn’t work in putting Jo to sleep and Dean would come upstairs and sing her a little lullaby. That didn’t happen quite as much as it used to, but it sure made everyone happy, not just Jo.

It was Friday night now, around six thirty. Jo was about to go over to her new friend Zoe’s house for a sleepover. She had talked about it all week long, reminding Dean in the morning when he dropped her off at school and Castiel in the afternoon when he picked her up. It was finally happening, and she could not have been more excited.

Zoe and Jo had already left their things by the car out front and were playing a “fairy game” in the front yard while Zoe’s mother insisted on having a conversation with Castiel.

“Jo is such a pretty little girl, her mother must be absolutely beautiful.”

He smiled and opened his mouth to say thank you and correct her on the mother part but the woman continued for him.

“Where is your wife, anyhow?”

Castiel smiled, knowing full well how this was going to turn out.

“Upstairs, I believe. One moment, please.”

He took a step inside, turning his back on the woman. “Dean!”

“Yeah?” Dean called back; he probably hadn’t even gotten the chance to get changed out of his work clothes yet.

“Zoe’s mother wants to meet you!”

He heard the shuffle of boots on the thin floor upstairs and turned back to face his curious guest.

Her warm smile turned into an enormously puzzled countenance as she witnessed Dean hurrying down the stairs.

“Hi, I’m Dean.” He beamed and held out his hand to her.

“I’m Laura.” Her tone trailed off, a quizzical expression passing over her face as she nearly gawked between looks at Dean and then Castiel repeatedly.

They shook hands, and Castiel fought to suppress the urge to start giggling at the poor woman’s undeniable uncomfortable feeling, trying to remind himself of how rude he was being like this.

“So, you’re Jo’s…?”

“Jo’s dad. And you’re Zoe’s mom?”

Laura nodded, her discomfort at the situation practically leaking out of her pores. 

“Nice to meet you.” Dean was still smiling, he could definitely see how amusing this was too.

“You too.” She sort of grinned after that and glanced over at the children. “I’ll uh, drop Jo off tomorrow morning around ten thirty?”

“Yes, thank you.” Castiel finally spoke, glancing at Dean briefly.

Laura walked over to the girls, calling for them to come get in the car. Jo bounced over towards her parents, hugging each of them for a few seconds.

“Bye Daddy! Bye Papa!” She skipped over to the car and climbed in, resuming her extremely excited conversation with Zoe.

Jo waved goodbye at them through the passing car window and they waved back, waiting until the car was out of view before shutting the front door.

“What was her problem?” Dean bemused, a slight smile on his face.

“She asked me where my wife was.”

“And?”

“And then I called you.”

Dean’s cheeks seemed to brighten right then, but from embarrassment or the warmth in the house, Castiel couldn’t tell.

“Dude, I’m not your wife.”

Castiel smirked at his partner and shrugged. “I know.”

Dean started walking back towards the stairs. “You’re more like my wife.”

“If that makes you happy, Dean.”

“Damn straight.”

Castiel chuckled as he strode back over to the kitchen where he was previously about to heat up leftover soup for dinner. He poured the soup out of the tupperware container into a small pot and turned on the stove as he stirred it. It didn’t look very appetizing at first, as most leftovers did not, but it didn’t look so bad once it was heated up and thoroughly stirred. Castiel heard Dean coming back down the stairs again as he moved over to the sink to rinse out the dirty container. He set the object aside to be put in the dishwasher later and stretched, reaching his arms up toward the ceiling.

Castiel immediately felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist as he did so, exciting an unexpected gasp from his throat. He dropped his arms, letting his hands rest on the ones against his abdomen.

“I’m sorry.” The words were out of his mouth so fast and so unforeseen that he nearly jumped, not really sure where they came from or why he said them. Though the faster the seconds ticked by, the more he realized that he did mean them. He hadn’t apologized about being so untrustworthy of Dean last Sunday, and it _had_ been weighing on him the past few days.

Dean’s hands let go, allowing Castiel to turn around, but they were suddenly right back on his hips, holding them close together. Dean nodded.

“It’s alright.”

He closed the distance between them, pressing a gentle kiss into Castiel.

Once the kiss was broken, Castiel couldn’t help but wrap his arms around Dean and burrowing his face into the warm man’s neck, breathing in his scent and feeling entirely grateful that he was so forgiving, even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Uh, Cas…?”

“Mm?”

“The stove?”

“Oh!” Castiel jumped, breaking away from his partner to discover the thick steam coming off the pot of soup that had been cold probably only five minutes ago. He waved his hand back and forth over the open pot, trying to get rid of the excessive steam and turned off the stove, moving the pot over to the burner next to it.

He sighed a bit, noticing the floating pieces of burned content in the soup. But as he turned around, there was Dean, with two bowls in his hands.  Castiel couldn’t help but grin. Of course Dean wouldn’t mind that the soup was burnt somehow; he rummaged around in a kitchen drawer for a ladle, and upon finding one, served the overheated soup into their bowls and fetched a couple spoons.

/

They had been sitting in their room for a while, on the bed with Dean’s arm around Cas. They were originally watching Dr. Sexy, but the episode ended and the program after didn’t seem horrible. Cas had changed into his pajamas as well and curled up beside Dean under the blanket, keeping him nice and warm.

Dean’s hand would occasionally drift from Cas’s shoulder, rubbing his back a little, knowing how relaxing it felt for him while Castiel had his arm across Dean’s stomach, holding him, really.

Now thoroughly bored and finished with the TV show and the repeating commercials, Dean reached for the remote on the nightstand, turning the TV off. Cas must’ve noticed the change in sound in his dozy state, and peered up at him through sleepy blue eyes and sat up. This time it was Cas who leaned in for a kiss, but Dean eagerly went with it, delighting at the feeling of his lover’s hand behind his neck and one clutching his hip. He followed suit, pulling Cas on top of him as he traced his tongue over the pair of warm, soft lips that were joint with his.

 Dean ran his hands up and down Cas’s back, simultaneous with the feeling of kisses and hot breath on his neck. Cas’s hands were just beginning to trail down Dean’s chest, tugging at the waistband of his pants again; Dean was more than ready to follow Cas’s command, desire filling every square inch of his body when –

_Ding, dong!_

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Dean growled as Cas sighed and sat up, glancing over at their door.

The look of annoyance on Castiel’s face was incredibly strong, and Dean knew that was probably what he looked like too. Maybe a little more pissed, but still. He got up from the warm bed, and followed his lover out the door and downstairs.

Cas was the first one downstairs, so he was the first one to look out the peephole in the door. He shot Dean a confused look as he opened the door slowly, letting in icy air.

“Do you know what time it–“ Dean started and stopped, realizing who it was.

“Sam?” Castiel questioned, peering out from behind the door.

“Hey.” Sam replied casually, grinning a little. “Can I?” He motioned towards inside, Dean stepped back, allowing his younger brother to come in.

“What are you doing here?” Cas asked, looking up at Sam, puzzlement written all over his face.

It was in that moment, Dean realized what a giant mistake he’d made.


	6. Where is Everyone?

Jo was feeling sleepy – much sleepier than she normally felt after a yummy breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes. She was convinced though that it was because she and Zoe had stayed up until midnight! That was _way_ past her regular bedtime! But at least it had been fun, staying up like that. Zoe had a lot of dolls that went to a _really big_ dollhouse that they played with and a _huge_ TV in her family’s den that they watched movies on.

On the car ride home, Jo wondered why her own family didn’t have a den. They had a living room, which she guessed was about the same thing, but no where near as cool as the den with a big TV and video games and bean bag chairs!

“We’re here, Jo.” It was Zoe’s mom.

“Huh?”

“Your house, kiddie.” She said the word kiddie very nicely, but Jo didn’t like it. It sounded like a mix of kitty cat and kiddo. Kiddo was what Daddy called her only and she was _not_ a kitty.

“Oh!” Jo rounded up her things from the car floor, “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, kiddie.” There was that bad nickname again. Jo winced at it a bit, but was out of the car and running to her front door before Zoe’s mom could notice or say it again.

Jo reached for the doorknob and turned it, quickly finding that the door was locked still – silly daddies.

The little girl turned around and spotted the small potted cactus plant that Papa told her not to touch. The cactus was small and light enough that Jo’s little hands could pick it up to find the house key that was hidden there.

After unlocking the front door, Jo went to go put the key back where she found it, but as she did so, she noticed another car parked outside their house. It wasn’t Daddy or Papa’s car; theirs were always in the garage, so who’s was it? Maybe someone was visiting, but Jo couldn’t think of who as she opened the front door, dragging her things in with her.

The house was quiet right now and once again, Jo found herself being very confused. Where was everybody?

“Daddy?” She called out, leaving her things by the front door.

“Papa?”

No answer… Maybe they were upstairs in their room?

Jo ran up the stairs, almost slipping on the smooth hardwood floor as she rounded the corner to Daddy and Papa’s room.

The door was wide open and no one was there. Uh-oh.

Jo began methodically going into every room of the house, repeatedly not finding her parents. The office-storage room? Nope. Bathrooms? Nope. Living room? No. Kitchen? No!

The blue-eyed little girl was on the verge of panicking or bursting into tears, she didn’t know which. Nibbling on her nails, Jo tried to remember Daddy or Papa saying anything about what she was supposed to do if she was home alone. She drew a million colorful blanks and was about to shed the first tear when she remembered that Daddy and Papa’s phone numbers were on the fridge!

Jo scrambled back into the kitchen, picking up the phone from its low socket on the wall and rushing to the fridge. She had to jump up and down to see the numbers, but she managed to poke in Daddy’s number first – it went straight to voicemail.

She tried Papa next, crossing her fingers as she pressed the phone to her ear. “Please pick up…” she softly prayed.

“Hello?”

“Papa!” Jo could hardly contain her happiness at hearing his voice.

“What is it, Jo?” His tone was very calm and soothing. No wonder Daddy liked to listen to him talk.

“I’m home alone!” She was careful to add extra emphasis to the word ‘alone’, so that Papa would understand the problem at hand.

“What?” There was a pause and she could vaguely hear him ask someone what time it was and the mumble of someone’s distant response. “Jo, I’m very sorry, we didn’t realize what time it was –“

“Is Daddy with you?”

“What? Oh, yes, he is, dear, don’t worry. We’ll be home in half an hour.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Jo, I promise.” He sounded tired, and Jo sorta felt guilty. Was he tired of talking to her? She hoped not.

“Papa?”

“Yes?”

“What am I supposed to do until you get back?”

Papa didn’t respond immediately. “You can turn on the TV if you wish. If not, there is a blank notebook and some markers on the coffee table in the living room.”

“Okay, Papa. Thank you!” She was so glad that there was something to do now, and she had meant her thank you when she said it. She was just so happy that he had answered the phone and would be home soon. Daddy, too!

“You’re welcome, Jo. We’ll see you soon.”

“Bye Papa!”

“Goodbye Jo.”

There was a click from the other end and Jo went to go hang up the phone and look for the markers.

She had been able to entertain herself in drawing a big picture of their house with all of them standing outside in front of it. Daddy and Papa were drawn standing on opposite sides of Jo. She realized, however, that she had accidentally drawn papa a little bit too far from Daddy and Jo. Papa’s hand didn’t quite reach Jo’s without being too long and she could only think of one way to fix that: she drew in another kid. It was probably a boy, she decided as his curly black hair was scribbled in.

Eventually, this added doodle kid turned out to have green eyes like Daddy’s and was even shorter than Jo. Maybe he was a baby and that was why he was so tiny? She didn’t know, and her attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere.

They were home!

/

“Daddy, Daddy!” Jo called out the moment Dean had gotten out of the car.

They had gone to Bobby’s fairly early that morning, around eight to talk the older man into helping Sam out with the hunt, only to find out that Bobby was out of town, working on something already. So that meant Sam staying on their couch and handling the case by himself, much to his older brother’s discontent.

Dean really did not like this plan. Leaving his little brother to do something with the chronic potential of danger all by himself was irritating to say the least. Sam, being the charismatic son of a bitch he was, had reminded him that he could handle an “easy” case like this on his own. He was supposed to go through the normal procedure, finish up the job as cleanly as a hunter could and leave to go do whatever it was the he did nowadays. Dean wanted to whine and point out the possibility that this case might not be as black and white as some previous ones they had done together and that Sam might need at least a little help, but Sam wasn’t hearing it, and Cas certainly wasn’t, in that quiet, unspoken yet horribly guilt-tripping way of his.

“Hey, kiddo!” Jo had made a running leap and Dean had barely enough time to brace himself to catch her and force down all those dark and muddy thoughts, at least around his baby girl.

Dean glanced over his shoulder, now holding Jo, at Sam and Cas getting out of the car. Rather, Cas was already out of the car while Sam had just managed to bang his head against the roof of it while getting out.

“You okay?” Dean didn’t bother to hold back his laugh, especially when he heard Jo’s giggles too.

Sam nodded and shot him a warning look, rubbing his fluffy head.

“Hi Sam!” Jo piped up, though Dean couldn’t see her face over his shoulder.

“Hey, Jo.”

Dean could never tell if Sam liked Jo. He was always nice enough to her, but didn’t he have to be? It seemed to be some weird unspoken rule that family members, at least distant ones, had to be nice to each other, or at least not total asses. Still, Dean didn’t want Jo to be some annoying baby niece to Sam, that just wouldn’t be cool on anyone’s part.

Dean put Jo back on the ground once they were all inside, nearly tripping over the bags she had left at the front door. He opened his mouth to remind her what she wasn’t supposed to do with that stuff, but Cas beat him to it.

“Jo, could you please take your things upstairs and put them away?”

She nodded, scooped up her things and made her way upstairs, narrowly avoiding dropping a pillow several times on the way up.

“Okay, so tell me again what the plan is?” Dean spoke up, his tone exuding more concern than he meant for it to. Damn.

Sam rolled his eyes a little too dramatically, practically rolling his shaggy head with it, poorly hiding his obvious annoyance. “I’m going to go to the church and investigate.”

“And?” Dean countered; he was growing annoyed himself. There was a reason the brothers didn’t hunt together anymore.

“And nothing, Dean. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“But–” Dean wanted nothing more than to be able to help his not-so-little brother on this one. If he didn’t think about all the stupid fights and arguments they had gotten into, he could almost miss the hunting lifestyle, _almost_. Still, he wasn’t totally sure about trusting Sam’s current hunting abilities. He could be out of practice too, for all they knew.

“Dean.” Cas’s voice startled him; he hadn’t said two words since they got out of the car. He shook his head at Dean, ever so quietly telling him to drop it.

They all stood in silence for a while, Sam with his hands jammed in his pockets – probably contemplating the meaning of life – Dean with folded arms and Cas leaning against the doorframe of the living room.

“What’s that?” Sam pointed at a heavily colored drawing on the coffee table.

“Jo most likely drew it.” Cas spoke again, and Dean could see him squinting at the backside of the drawing, probably trying to make sense of the colorful blotches of ink that bled through the thin paper.

Sam sort of smirked at the picture, but looked a little weirded out at the same time; he kept glancing from it, to Dean, to Castiel.

“Huh.”

“What?” Dean retorted.

“I didn’t know you guys were getting another kid.”

“I didn’t either.” Dean added, glancing suspiciously over at Cas as he walked over to Sam, who handed him Jo’s drawing before leaving the room to get something out of his car.

He held it very lightly in his hands, like it was a precious artifact made to go into a museum and as if he was trying not to harm it as he went to stand beside his husband.

“Oh.” Dean murmured, taking in the picture. It was cute, really, and the fact that Jo had taken the time to draw giant circular muscles on Dean’s arms made him grin. She had also picked just the right blue marker to color in Cas’s and her own eyes with. Fighting the urge to start laughing at Jo’s fluffy-haired caricature of herself, Dean moved his attention to what he guessed was supposed to be her “little brother”.

Cas pointed at the nameless kid and grinned. “Your eyes.” His voice was barely above a whisper, even though he had no need to do that, but it was adorable anyways.

Leave it to Jo and Cas to make him _enjoy_ that chick-flick moment.


	7. M&M's and Murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, yes. I do think I'm hilarious for coming up with these chapter titles.

“Boss?” A young demon was approaching a large black leather chair that was spun around, facing a darkened window and the luminescent moon; he felt tempted to reach out and turn the chair around himself without waiting, but he knew better. You didn’t disrespect the boss.

“What?” The Boss snapped back, clearly in no mood to be bothered.

“I’m back from the, uh, errand.”

Deafening silence hung in the air for a few moments, before the Boss spoke.

“You failed me.”

“N-no!”

“Then where is she?” Heat and anger were growing in the voice that he could only hear, but see no body to which it belonged.

“Well, she’s not with me…” The young demon struggled to say.

“Who’s she with then?”

“The Winchesters.”

There was no verbal response right away, only the brief squeal of the chair as it was spun around to face him. It was a woman sitting in the chair, in a black gown that draped over her every curve of her ageless body. Her brunette looks were arranged in curls, meticulously parted on the side, her skin was porcelain white and looked ready to shatter at any moment, though anyone that worked for her knew better.

“ _The Winchesters?_ ” She repeated, ice and fire blending together over her lips. Her eyes flickered from the luscious hazel green that they normally were to an intense, burning crimson.

This was going to be it for him and he knew it.

“You left her with the Winchesters? Do you understand what your job was?”

“Yes.”

“No, you idiot, I don’t think you do.”

She was closer now, only a few inches away from him, but she was terrifyingly still, even with all the undeniable rage bubbling up inside of her.

“You were supposed to get into their house, get the kid, and bring her here. _Where’s the kid?_ ”

“S-still with them–” He was suddenly flying through the air, across the icy room into the wall. He could hear the crunch – whether it was from his meat suit’s bones cracking all at once or the wall behind him collapsing under the sudden pressure, he wasn’t sure.

“ _Fool!_ ” The Boss was shrieking at him as she twisted her hand, knotting his intestines around his stomach somehow.

She hadn’t touched him, only stepped towards his broken body, glaring down at him with those impossibly red eyes.

“You had one job, and you failed!” She twisted her hand again, and the young demon was almost certain that he could feel his blood starting to boil beneath his skin.

“And now you’re going to pay.” She hissed through clenched teeth and a twist of her powerful hand.

/

Dean was kneeled over the ground in Jo’s room after dinner, trying to pick out the shards of broken glass out of the carpet. It had been a few days since the accident, and no one, especially poor Jo, was having an easy time with it.

He and Cas had tried to go to work the Monday morning following, taking Jo to school and following that normal procedure in hopes of distracting her. It hadn’t worked though and Dean got a call from the school saying that Jo had become hysterical during recess, hurt another kid on accident and needed to go home.

When he arrived in the school’s office, he found his baby girl, curled up in a ball in one of the chairs in the office, whimpering and not letting anyone touch her.

“Jo, look up. It’s Daddy.”

He had knelt down before her chair, gently trying to get her attention. There wasn’t going to be an easy way to go about this, he could see that right away.

“I didn’t mean to…” She mumbled, making eye contact with Dean.

“I know you didn’t, kiddo. I’m not blaming you. We’re going home.”

She nodded and stood up from her chair, wiping her eyes and shakily taking Dean’s hand as they walked off the school campus to the car.

It had gotten a little better the days after; Dean and Cas were able to go to work and Jo seemed to be okay with going to school again, her episode of lashing out against another kid over. It was better, in a sense, but at that time that Jo had lashed out, she wasn’t having nightmares either.

The nightmares had started Monday night, the night after Sam and Dean had spent the whole day fixing and strengthening the window the demon had busted through and grabbed her. Everything else in the room was in okay shape, aside from the bits of broken glass that he was still picking out, just in case.

Dean shook his head at the memory of his baby girl being held by the back of her shirt, a filthy hand covering her mouth as the damned demon tried to kidnap her... no. He wouldn’t think about that now.

His mind did drift to the past few nights though, where he and Cas would be sitting downstairs in the living room, or in their bedroom relaxing or getting ready for bed when the screaming would start. They would both sprint across the hall, or up the stairs into Jo’s room, waking Jo from her fit of regular nightmares. It wasn’t hard to wake her up, but the screaming wouldn’t stop until she realized that her parents were holding her and that whatever nightmares weren’t real. That was when the tears would come too and she would end up sobbing her sorry little self back to sleep.

Dean liked to think she was getting better, that the nightmares were growing fewer, but he knew better, deep down. It was getting easier. The nightmares were to be expected every night now, and letting Jo sleep in their bed until morning was a normal occurrence nowadays.

He shook his head, finally picking up the last piece of glass from the fluffy carpet and stood up, dropping the tiny shards into her small trash bin. Dean could see Cas and Jo sitting at living room table as he went downstairs. Cas was helping her with her math problems again, and apparently Jo was having a hard time with it today as Cas had resorted to using M&M’s as a counting device.

“How many M&M’s are right here?” Cas pointed at one point on the placemat.

“Ten.” Jo responded eagerly.

“And if we eat six of them, how many are left?”

Jo paused, looked up at Cas before counting out six of the chocolates; she put three in front of her Papa and put the other three in her mouth then counted the remaining candies. “Four!”

“Very good!”

They high-fived and Dean grinned as he entered the room. At least _this_ was normal.

/

Dean was sprawled out and asleep on the living room couch that evening Castiel noted as he descended the stairs from Jo’s room. He had just put her to bed, and he was beginning to think that maybe it was Dean’s bedtime too.

“Dean.” Castiel murmured, reaching over the back of the couch to run a hand through his husband’s hair.

He was slow to wake up, blinking his green eyes lazily, probably remembering where he was and who he was with; he was normally very disoriented after these catnaps.

“What?”

Castiel moved around the couch to sit at Dean’s side, “You fell asleep, dear.”

“Oh.”

Dean glanced around the room, blinking his eyes some more before sitting up. “Where’s Jo?”

“In her bed, probably asleep by now.”

He nodded and obviously remembered something. “Sam’s staying at Bobby’s right now.”

Castiel nodded now and gave his partner a quizzical look. Sam had been staying at Bobby’s house for a while now. “Yes, they have been looking for information, correct?”

“Yeah. They might’ve found something though. About the shit that happened to Jo.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” Dean stretched and yawned, “I gotta go talk to them on Monday.”

Castiel fought to suppress the sigh that wanted so badly to free itself from his throat. Of course he didn’t like how Dean kept having to go meet with his younger brother and father figure every few days, but he disliked what had happened to Jo and all her nightmares even more so. He cleared his throat and without looking at his husband softly responded, “That’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

Dean was sitting up now, and he took Castiel’s chin in one hand and pulled him into the most tender kiss they’d shared in a while.

“A-are you ready for bed?” He stammered once Dean pulled away. Castiel couldn’t quite figure out why he was so nervous, they had kissed like this so many times before; even their first kiss was one like this, so where was the sudden anxiety coming from?

“Uh-huh.”

Castiel stood, allowing Dean to properly get up before they went back up the stairs; Dean glanced at Jo through the open door once they were at the top of the stairs and seemed to sigh, but there was no noise sounding from him.

Castiel gently rested a hand on his husband’s shoulder, trying to distract him from the intense concern that was clear to see on his face. “She’s okay, Dean.”

He just nodded and followed his partner into their room and got ready for bed.

Once under the covers, Dean finally spoke again.

“Cas?”

“Yes?” He turned over onto his side, beautiful green eyes meeting his own.

“Do you, uh, remember what we were going to do tomorrow?”

Castiel furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Um, no. What was it?”

Dean seemed to bite his tongue or chew his cheek at the question and Castiel instantly felt guilty for not remembering something that was so clearly causing his love this discomfort.

“The orphanage? We promised Jo a few weeks back.”

_Oh._

“Yes, of course!” Castiel soothed, reaching out and squeezing Dean’s bicep. “I can’t believe I forgot about this.”

Dean grinned and nodded; his cheeks seemed a little red, at least more so than usual.

But how could Castiel have forgotten? They had spent an entire day that Jo was with a friend cleaning out the extra room they had: moving out furniture, sweeping the floor, painting the walls, and cleaning the windows. The cleanliness of the room was entirely Castiel’s job, Dean had volunteered to put reassemble Jo’s old crib and changing table, but they had to go buy a new high chair later on.

The room looked much better as a nursery than a storage space, Castiel had realized, enjoying the thought of its snowy white walls, sky blue ceiling and fluffy white carpet beneath the wooden crib. The room had been decorated much like Jo’s had: a mostly white room aside from some blue decorations and pieces of furniture. Jo’s room had had pieces of purple in it though, not blue because Dean had refused blue, because that was a baby boy’s color, and pink was just too girly. Somehow, purple had been better.

“When did you want to go?” Dean asked, waking Castiel up from his happy, busy thoughts.

“Is after church alright with you?” He asked gently, a smile on his face. “I’m sure that Jo won’t remember this promise, and we can drive to the orphanage after and surprise her.”

Dean smiled a gigantic, teeth-showing smile at the idea. “Yeah. I think she’d like that.”

“I do too.”

The same beaming smile on his face, Dean reached out for Castiel this time, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he pulled him into his warm embrace, letting them both fall asleep this way.

 


	8. Only One

Dean had gotten into the front seat while Castiel buckled Jo into her car seat after church, but his baby girl was in a fairly good mood this morning; she hadn’t had the horrible nightmares last night from what they could tell. There was no screaming at three AM and no need to hold her and rock her back to sleep. Maybe he had been right, Dean realized with a smile, maybe her nightmares were growing shorter and fewer. Maybe this whole shitty mess was finally falling behind them; Sam had even called that morning saying that there was no sign of angry spirits, vengeful demons or any other kind of monster wreaking havoc on an unsuspecting town yesterday or this morning. Maybe everything was off to a good, fresh start.

“Daddy?” Jo asked once she saw that they weren’t driving back home.

“Yeah, kiddo?” Here it was.

“Where are we going?”

Dean turned his head towards Castiel briefly who was already looking at him; Dean gave his husband a nod and Cas gave him his cutest smile.

“Jo, do you remember when you told us that you wanted a baby brother?” Cas asked; Dean could see him smiling widely back at their baby girl.

“Uh-huh…?” She cocked her head in that familiar way that Cas always did when he was confused; she probably barely remembered asking about that, and that made the situation all the better.

Cas was silent though, probably looking for the right words to say when Dean started watching Jo through the rearview mirror and he could see the gears start going in her head.

“I’m getting a baby brother!” She squealed, bouncing around in her car seat with joy.

Cas only nodded, but he was beaming at little Jo for a bit while she giggled and kept bouncing around, unable to contain her excitement.

The remainder of the car ride consisted of Cas squeezing his hand and Jo asking them if they were there yet every fifteen seconds. It was totally cute, but if the ride were any longer he would have told her to settle down.

“We’re here, Jo!” Dean shouted back to her as he unbuckled himself as fast as possible in his own enthusiasm before moving to help her out of the car seat. She was out of the car and sprinting in her Sunday best towards the front steps of the orphanage in seconds, Cas calling after her.

“Jo! Jo, wait right there!” He shouted, chasing after her with Dean quickly by his side. Maybe they were a little more than excited too.

Jo waited, stomping her feet at the top of the steps while they charged on up the stairs, trying to keep up with the speedy little girl.

Once at the top of the stairs, Dean and Cas simultaneously grabbed one of Jo’s hands, keeping her from dashing off again as they walked through the main doors to the front desk. A young woman was sitting at the front desk, typing away at her computer as they walked up.

“Hello!” Jo yelped, jumping up and down so that the lady at the desk could see her.

“Hi, sweetie, what’s your name?” The lady asked softly, smiling down at her.

“Jo.”

“And what can I do for you today, Miss Jo?”

“I’m getting a baby brother!”

The lady grinned, she’d clearly heard this before; she turned her attention up to Dean, not dropping her smile. “Last name?”

“Winchester.”

She nodded, typed in something into that computer of hers, picked up the phone on her desk, called someone and had a quick, barely audible conversation. “The nursery is down the hall and to the left. Ms. Wilson will be waiting for you there.”

“Thank you.” Castiel’s tone was as warm as the smile he gave Dean right then, and if it weren’t for Jo and the prospect of their new baby, it probably would have felt like they were the only ones in the room right then.

They followed the desk-lady’s directions down the hall and to the left, and were met with an frail, old woman standing in the doorway of what Dean assumed was the nursery. “Are you the Winchesters?” The old woman asked, sort of smiling at them.

“Yes.” Cas responded quickly, still holding Jo’s hand.

“Right this way, you three.” She instructed, turning away from them and stepping inside the nursery.

As they walked in, Dean trailing Cas and Jo, he took in how suddenly quiet in was in here. There were more cribs than he’d expected in the one large room, but at least half of them were empty. There was one crib Jo was taking an interest in: one that held two babies in it, one was wrapped in a blue blanket and another in a pink one.

“Why are they together?” Jo innocently asked the old woman.

“They’re twins, dearie.” She explained, “We can’t separate them because they love each other very much, and they have to be adopted together.” She spoke very delicately to Jo, as if she was a baby too, and that just wasn’t the case. Jo may have been little, Dean of all people knew that, but she wasn’t _that_ small.

Cas shook his head when Jo looked up at him with pleading eyes after looking at the twins, and Dean was wholeheartedly thankful for his response. He’d only agreed to one more of these things, not two.

They walked around the nursery a few times, Jo quickly scanning over each of the babies and Dean having to follow her around and make sure she didn’t bother one of them.

“Dean?”

Castiel was standing beside one of the cribs, and Dean quickly joined him, curious to see what was catching his partner’s attention like this.

“Look.” Cas motioned towards the baby in the crib that was staring blankly up at him.

It was a baby boy, as far as Dean could understand by the fuzzy blue blanket, with fair skin and a tuft of black curls on top of his head. What really stood out were its watchful bright green eyes, as they held Dean’s attention for a long time.

“Daddy, I wanna see!” Jo’s voice snapped him out of the little trance the wide-eyed baby got him into and he stepped aside, letting her squeeze in between them, staring at the baby between the bars of the crib.

They must’ve been standing there forever: Cas and Dean staring at the green-eyed baby while Jo caught its attention by being so much closer to its face. “Hi baby!” Jo whispered in a loud sort of way.

The baby didn’t really react, just give Jo a very confused look and squirm around under his blanket. But confusion was better than tears, Dean realized, as the baby easily could have started crying from all this extra attention. Did they even do that? Would a baby start crying if it didn’t want so many people crowding it?

At this thought, Dean instantly wanted to take a step back and not crowd the baby, but the old woman was beside him all of a sudden, reaching for the baby. He didn’t react here either, just gave the old woman the same confused look he gave Jo; the old woman frowned as she cradled him, looking from Castiel to Dean and then back at the baby.

“He’s a strange baby, this one.” She bounced him a little bit, “He doesn’t cry very much, but he doesn’t really try to make any noise other than that.”

A quiet baby? There couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with that, Dean thought, trying to figure out why the old woman had seen this as something to frown about.

“May I?” Cas had so silently moved around them to the old woman, obviously still as charmed by this baby as they all were – even Jo was keeping herself hushed.

The old woman carefully passed the green-eyed baby into Cas’s arms, and Dean swore he could feel something swelling in his chest at the sight of it.

/

Castiel fondly remembered how one was supposed to hold a baby, with one arm arranged slightly higher so that its head would have appropriate support. Once in his arms though, the infant looked up at Castiel, its green eyes not looking so confused anymore. The color of its eyes combined with the sheer warmth that was coming off the baby somehow made him think of Dean.

Castiel smiled down at the apparently silent infant and rocked him gently before looking up at his family again. Dean had the most affectionate, beaming smile on his face, looking at the baby, and it only grew when his partner offered to hold the baby. Dean gladly accepted, forming a sort of tense cradle for it as Castiel gently placed the baby into his husband’s arms. Dean’s face lit up, holding the tiny infant as it lifted one miniature hand and held his finger for a moment, staring up at him with as much sentiment as an infant possibly could have.

“Papa?” Jo pulled on Castiel’s hand softly.

“Yes, dear?”

“I wanna hold him too.”

He nodded and looked up at the caretaker of the nursery, “Would you mind if she held him?”

“As long as you help her, not at all.” The old woman’s smile was genuine; Castiel could feel it and it comforted him to know that she was in charge of caring for the babies, especially this one.

Dean had heard the conversation and glanced over at his husband who willingly knelt down to Jo’s level and fashioned her arms into a proper cradle. It was a spread cradle of her arms, since she was so much smaller than him or Dean, but it would do. Dean got down as well and Castiel couldn’t pull his eyes away as his partner so tenderly rested the infant in their daughter’s arms.

Castiel stood up and watched with awe as the baby reached for a lock of Jo’s hair and held it briefly, much like he had done to Dean’s finger.

“How old is he?” Dean asked before Castiel could.

“Three-months today.”

“He’s so tiny.” Jo spoke, a big grin on her face.

They had adopted Jo from the same orphanage, when she was even younger than this; she was only a month and a half old when they brought her home. She was an even smaller baby that cried all through the night and had a blonde tuft of hair that fell out and grew back several times in her first year of life. And much like when they had first found baby Jo, they couldn’t bring themselves to let her go, let alone look at the other possible options.

Castiel looked up at Dean, sharing a brief moment of understanding and joy before he nodded – this was the one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay wow I didnt' realize how sickeningly sweet this chapter was, but I'm not changing it. :D


	9. Welcome Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god this chapter was so fluffy I don't even know how to deal with it.   
> I hoped you enjoyed it though!

It was 8:30 that Sunday night and Castiel sat in the nursery’s rocking chair cradling their baby boy, thankful that he and Dean had generous bosses at work that let them take time off for the new family member. All this had been arranged prior, but it was still bringing an even bigger smile to his face. He’d been sitting in the nursery with the infant for a while now, rocking him and watching as he slowly, very slowly started to drift off into restful sleep.

“Papa?”

Castiel looked up to find Jo and Dean in the doorway, both in their pajamas. “Yes, dear?”

She looked at him sheepishly, then up at Dean who nodded at her. “Can I say goodnight to the baby?”

“Of course.”

Jo padded across the fluffy white carpet over to them, Dean shuffling along right behind her. He was probably going to take her to bed soon, too.

Castiel leaned forward a bit, lowering the baby to Jo’s level as she climbed onto the armrest of the rocking chair, trying to get a better view of her new brother.

“Good night, baby, welcome to our family!” Jo cheered, the happiest little smile on her face. She then leaned forward and kissed the infant on its forehead.

“Good night, Jo.” Castiel murmured, hugging his perfect little girl with his one free arm.

“Nighty night, Papa!”

She climbed down off the armrest only to be picked up once more by Dean, who inevitably carried her off to bed. Castiel felt a pinch of sadness within him that he couldn’t properly say goodnight to Jo for the first time in a while, but he shrugged it off. Jo could fall asleep on her own; a three-month old baby would have a more difficult time.

The baby seemed to have woken up a bit more again once Jo had come in and kissed his head, but its eyelids were still getting droopy as Castiel resumed rocking him. He did realize, however, that the rocking chair probably needed to be fixed, because it squeaked so harshly with every sway that Castiel finally gave up on it and stood up. It was a little bit easier to lull the green-eyed baby to sleep this way, standing in front of the crib and rocking him gently.

Castiel was sure that the baby was halfway to falling asleep again when he felt Dean’s warm presence embrace him, his comforting arms wrapping around his waist. Castiel let himself relax into his husband, still cradling the baby, who miraculously looked even drowsier in the warmth of another parent’s arms.

“Dean?”

“Mm?”

“What are we going to name him?”

Dean didn’t respond right away, instead he released his affectionate hold on Castiel and moved around to look at the baby; he placed one hand on its head and one hand on the back of Castiel’s hand, making him feel as though the cradle was somehow stronger with Dean’s hand a part of it.

“Well, I wanted you to name him.” Dean confessed, his beautiful green eyes connecting with his husband’s.

“And why would you want that?”

“Because I had a lot of say in naming Jo. This is fair.” Dean looked a little embarrassed, if not a bit sheepish.

Castiel nodded his understanding, though he truly did wish that Dean would help him with this one.

He chewed on his cheek, staring down at their nameless baby boy for a few minutes, when it came to him.

“Alfie.”

“Huh?”

“Alfie. Do you remember my younger brother, Dean?”

Dean nodded, a confused and saddened expression on his face. He clearly remembered what had happened to Castiel’s younger brother so many years ago. “You want to name the baby after him?”

“Yes!”

“Why?” Dean looked marginally uncomfortable at his partner’s enthusiasm.

“Well, we named Jo after someone important to us, didn’t we?”

Dean nodded again, that same confusion all over his face.

“She died an honorable death that night, and so did my younger brother, Dean. I think we can honor him and this baby in that way, don’t you?”

Dean was silent for a while. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and he looked down at the baby, running his fingers gently through its soft, dark hair.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Dean.” Castiel managed to contain the exasperated tone that wanted so badly to show itself. “I am as sure about naming the baby this as you were about naming Jo.”

Dean chuckled and Castiel found himself hopelessly drawn to and made undeniably happy by the light in his green eyes when he did that.

“Okay, you got me, Cas.” He grinned, pecking his husband’s cheek. “Alfie, it is.”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile at this – the name felt right for their baby, just like Jo’s had been when they named her.

Little Alfie had fallen asleep by the time their conversation had ended too, curled up, safe and sound between his parents; knowing that they had to go to bed as well being Castiel’s only motivation to put him in his crib.

Dean had moved to the side to turn on the baby monitor while the baby was tucked in, but soon rejoined Castiel in beaming down at their sleeping baby.

“He’ll still be here at three in the morning, Cas, c’mon.” The context of what Dean was saying wasn’t all that comforting, but the warm and loving tone he used as well as the way he wrapped an arm around Castiel’s waist once more said otherwise.

Castiel nodded, and pulled up the bar on the crib, making sure it clicked at the top.

“Good night, Alfie.”

He dropped his hand into the crib, and stroked the baby’s soft head before pulling his hand away. Dean gently guided him out of the nursery and in the same manner shut the door so that Jo wouldn’t have to wake up in the middle of the night when the baby would inevitably start crying.

Castiel climbed into bed after Dean once in their room, sliding over to his husband’s side of the bed and draping an arm around his waist. Dean held his hand against his abdomen, clearly just as content to fall asleep with this contact and the promise of tomorrow with Jo and Alfie. 


	10. The Nerve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I forget that I need to constantly update this story and you guys don't always get consistent updates and I'm sorry. :(

“Dean, I don’t like this plan.” Castiel murmured, shoving the final item into his suitcase.

“What, and you think I do?” Dean retorted, finishing off his own suitcase.

“No, of course not, it’s just–”

“Just what?” He hadn’t meant to cut off his partner like this, but they needed to get moving.

“You promised, Dean.” Cas was suddenly very close, clutching Dean’s wrist, stopping him from walking away from their conversation.

“Cas, it’s not like that.”

“Then how is it like, Dean? Tell me.” There was ice in his tone, sharp daggers of ice that pierced the air between them.

Dean tried to take a step back, giving them a comfortable distance but Cas only strengthened his grip – he wasn’t going anywhere until this was over apparently and that made him want to dry heave.

“Tell me.” Cas tried again, his voice a whip now that left a bright red mark on Dean’s skin.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes at Cas, “Because you won’t understand.”

“I won’t _understand_?” Cas’s eyes were on fire now, that icy blue torrent of flames that engulfed everything around them and held Dean’s tongue insufferably. “Dean, our daughter was _attacked_ six weeks ago. Our son was almost kidnapped or murdered just last night, and–” He stopped briefly, his face was red and his grip on Dean’s wrist was somehow stronger even as he shook like this. 

“–and I’ve known you for years, Dean Winchester. I may not have known you as long as some others but I know you better than you could possibly imagine. I know who you are and what you’ve done and what you will do.” His volume had been rising steadily, but he paused again, before swallowing hard. “ _And you have the nerve to tell me that I won’t understand?_ ”

Cas finally let go, his glaring, seething eyes boring a hole into their wall when he looked away. Dean vaguely heard him mumble something along the lines of “unbelievable” as he paced around the room, running his hands through his hair like he always did when he was really stressed.

“Cas, I didn’t mean it like that.” Dean practically begged, irrationally annoyed that he had been reduced to this level in their argument. They needed to go _now,_ damn it!

Castiel barely gave him one hate-filled glance, wordlessly giving him an opportunity to talk.

“Listen, if I didn’t have to move us out right now, I wouldn’t. I swear to God.” He spoke slowly, trying to maintain as sincere and calm a tone as possible.

“Then why are you doing it?” Cas’s voice came so quietly and so delayed that Dean both didn’t expect it and almost didn’t hear it.

“Because I probably got us into this mess, and I need to be the one to get us out.”

Castiel shook his head, rubbing his temples with the most dejected yet expressively aggravated look on his face. “No.”

“Yes, Cas.” Dean pushed again, now walking towards his husband. “I did this. I’ve always brought crap home to us on accident, why can’t you get that?”

/

Jo had gotten Alfie out of his crib in the hallway when she heard him start crying. After a while of being held he stopped crying – she decided that he was just feeling lonely again. Papa said babies got lonely more than big kids and grown-ups. Jo was a big kid and she didn’t mind playing by herself so much anymore, she did when she was a little kid though.

But Alfie was even smaller than a little kid, and he clung to his big sister when she sat down at the top of the stairs, listening to Daddy and Papa. Their door was closed, but Jo could hear them having a very loud conversation.

Something had happened last night, but she couldn’t tell what. All she knew was that Daddy and Papa suddenly always wanted to know where Jo and Alfie were and it was really weird. Daddy had come into her room a little while ago too, telling Jo to pack up all her things in a big red suitcase he dropped in her room; he didn’t look like he was happy, so Jo didn’t ask why, but she was worried.

Their door swung open and Daddy stepped out, holding his own suitcase. “Ready?”

“Uh-huh.” She pointed with her free hand towards the suitcase sitting in the doorway of her bedroom; she hadn’t packed much as she figured they were going to come back. The stuff in there was all her clothes and favorite toys, as well as a bag with her hair and toothbrush.

“Good.” Daddy picked up the suitcase and carried both of the ones down the stairs, leaving them by the front door. From her spot at the top of the stairs, Jo could see him walking towards the garage, probably. Why weren’t they taking the normal car?

“Time to go, dear.” It was Papa, holding his own suitcase and a duffel bag full of Alfie’s things. His things were small so they could fit in a bag even smaller than Jo’s.

“Where are we going, Papa?” Jo asked as they went down the stairs.

“We’re going to stay at Grandpa Bobby’s house for a while.”

“Why?”

Papa looked sad when she asked and Jo instantly felt bad for asking.

“I’m not really sure why, Jo.”

She nodded, trying to show Papa that she was a big girl and she understood. It seemed to make Papa feel better too, because he put an arm around her shoulder as they walked out to the garage.

Sitting in the car, Alfie buckled into his own car seat, and Daddy and Papa in the front, everyone was quiet. It made Jo kind of unhappy, because normally they would all talk in the car – Jo would tell them a new joke she learned at school, and Daddy and Papa would have their very soft conversations in the front seat that only they could hear. Sometimes Jo thought it looked like they were just mouthing the words because they were so quiet, but she was never totally sure. She just figured that that was what daddies did.

Maybe Alfie would help Jo figure them out one day. 


	11. Broken Vision, Broken Glass

It had been along and confusing few days.

Dean, Sam and Bobby had spent Tuesday night huddled over Bobby’s desk or pacing around the room. Dean had requested Castiel keep Jo out of the room when she was there – no one had even begun to explain to her the concept of her Daddy hunting the monsters in her closet or under her bed run amuck.

Castiel and Dean had been having a conversation, arguing about telling Jo about the darkness that presently seemed to incessantly stalk them wherever they went.

_PAST_

Jo was already in bed, sleeping, and Dean was the only one downstairs, locking up the house while Castiel was upstairs in the bathroom.

The shattering window startled just about everyone who heard it, meaning Jo didn’t hear it – or if she did, she didn’t say anything regarding it. The overwhelmingly destructive crash asserted a new fear when it was followed by the baby’s cry. Castiel had instinctively called out to Dean as he tore across the hallway to the nursery, quickly finding the culprit – a demon woman had been standing in the room, reaching into the crib when he burst forth. Her eyes glowered bloody crimson into him as she hissed; his stomach dropped.

“Back.” She barked, raising a still hand.

The floor was suddenly gone from beneath Castiel’s feet and he was being thrown against the wall; his head collided with it first, corkscrewing his vision into a kaleidoscope of obscure, dark colors. He grunted, his vision spinning away from any kind of focus as the sensation of blood trickling down from his nose was materializing.

Through his spiraling vision, Castiel could see the woman lay a hand on struggling, wailing Alfie; he was on his hands and knees for a brief moment before being smacked back into the wall by another invisible blow. It had come soaring in at an angle this time around, propelling his battered body into the dresser. Drawers clattered down all around him, striking the back of his head again harder than previously, as the sensation of a muffle being placed over all his senses ensued.

Castiel could vaguely feel the thumps of feet across the floor nearest him, taste blood on his lips, and hear through the rushing in his ears, the too familiar din of a shotgun going off over and over and the unidentified, immortal shriek of pain pierce the muffled air that surrounded him. The dying sound in the room was suffocating somehow, it collapsed around his lungs, crushed his organs, pounded his brain…

And then it stopped.

/

“Cas!” He was being shook, Dean’s voice accompanying the able hands gripping his shoulders.

Castiel managed a grunt as he opened his eyes, placing his hands out in front of him, grasping the fabric of his husband’s shirt as soon as it was in his reach.

“What happened?”

“Demon.” He choked out, still clutching Dean’s shirt.

“That’s not what–“ Dean stopped himself and the look of sheer agony that passed over his hunter’s face in that instant was heartbreaking, so long as his heart and other vital organs were still intact and able to be broken. “I know.”

Castiel forced himself to look up, to center his attention on Dean’s eyes, to drag himself out of this mental haze. “Is Alfie safe? And Jo?”

Dean nodded, his green eyes flickering with an array of emotions that he couldn’t even begin to decipher. “Yeah, Cas, they’re fine. Not a scratch.”

Castiel managed to nod his understanding, and whether he smiled at the confirmation or not, he could barely even tell. The room was starting to slow its whirl though, which had to be a good sign.

“Yeah,” Dean started, giving his husband a gentle shake again. “are you okay?”

“I don’t–” He began but shook his head, shakily trying to communicate that he wasn’t sure. But Dean’s expression went from concerned to panicked, his green eyes blazing with alarm. “Look at me.”

One hand clasped Castiel’s chin tightly, forcing him to gaze up, to concentrate on the irresolutely troubled face in front of him.

“Tell me your name.”

“Castiel.”

“Full name.”

“Castiel James Novak.”

“Jo’s birthday.”

“May 18th.”

Dean seemed to relax his current pensive features, as he prodded one last time. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three. I think I’m alright, Dean.”

_PRESENT_

“Cas, please, it’s for her own good. She’d be safer if she knew.” Dean tried, rubbing his temples, a habit imitated from his husband without much thought. It didn’t actually do any good for his throbbing headache in the moment though.

“She would be afraid, Dean. Not safer.” Cas so willingly added, with a glowering, pale blue look.

“She would get over it. She’s tough.”

“Not that tough.” Cas countered, in that infuriatingly stubborn and bold way of his when he was pissed.

“How do you know?” Dean snapped.

Castiel shook his head for the umpteenth time in the one discussion. “She’s only a child, Dean!”

The hunter stood up from how his sitting position on the creaking old chair, unintentionally knocking it over in the process.

“Where are you going?” Cas asked, his voice filled to the brim with something that sounded like annoyance.

“For a walk, _damn it_.” Adding the edge to the last words was all Dean could do to stop himself from screaming at Cas, but it seemed like the guy wanted to be yelled at for crying out loud!

Dean had picked up the empty beer bottle on his way to the door, and as he went through, it got caught between the frame and the slamming door, crushing the glass into his hand, opening a painful, thick and bloody gash in his palm.

“ _Fuck!_ ”

He dropped the bloodied remains of the glass bottle on the ground behind him as he stepped outside, letting the door hammer its frame on his way out, cradling his bleeding hand. 


	12. A Promise

Daddy wasn’t at home very much. Papa said that it was because he had been too busy working with Uncle Sam to come home every day, and that things would go back to normal sooner or later.

Jo didn’t mind moving around so much either, but she did miss home. Papa would never tell her why they would move places again or how long they would be staying, and it was confusing. They had moved into an apartment only a week ago, and it had a swimming pool in that back that she really, _really_ wanted to swim in, even if it was cold outside. Papa had gone back to their old-home to get her bathing suit and a beach towel and when Jo told Daddy about it, he got mad at Papa.

Jo couldn’t figure out why Daddy was so grumpy about it, but he said sorry to Papa later –all she knew was that she didn’t like it when her daddies fought. Alfie didn’t like it either, she could tell.

Alfie cried more nowadays, usually whenever he was left by himself or in the middle of the night. Jo could only assume that it was because he didn’t like being all by himself, or with no one holding him.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, Jo would be lying awake and looking out her window when Alfie would start crying. A few moments after the crying began, Jo would just listen to Papa get out the squeaky bed and walk over to the crib. He would take baby out of the crib and walk around the room some more, talking to him as he moved around. After that, Alfie usually settled down, but sometimes he was hungry – so Papa would go into kitchen and heat up milk for the baby. He would talk to the baby while he waited for the milk to heat up too, and would coo to him while Alfie drank his milk, which always had to be warmer than Jo’s, Daddy said so.

What happened after this though was her favorite part. Papa would take Alfie back into their room and start walking around again, he would either coo to him again, or start humming. Jo could never guess what song it actually was that Papa would hum, but he used to hum it for her when she was tiny too. It was sort of a lullaby, called “Hey, Jude” and Daddy sang the real words sometimes instead of Papa humming it, and it made her happy – happy and ready to drift off to sleep within an instant.

/

Castiel ran a hand through his hair as he sat down in the car again, letting out a sigh at the silence surround him. He had just dropped off Jo and Alfie at his sister, Anna’s house for the night. She had called him a few nights ago asking how he was doing, to which she quickly caught on to his exhausted tone of voice and offered to take kids off his hands.

Anna was like that, she always had been. She was rather sympathetic to everyone she was close to, especially family, and that was probably best. Castiel had been reluctant to say yes to her though, the knowledge that Jo could need a lot of attention to be entertained and that Alfie was barely four and a half months old and would most likely need even more of her attention. Anna wouldn’t let him say no though, and whisked both the baby and the little girl off to her living room which she had transformed from a tasteful sitting room for her work clients and colleagues to a temporary playroom for them.

It was raining that evening when Castiel had gotten back to their apartment, and the cold air that welcomed him home was dismaying, to say the least.

He moved to turn on the heater as he took off his coat and shoes, leaving them in their rightful places in the closet nearest the front door. The closet didn’t have much in it on the rack: only a few coats and sweaters, the rest of their belongings were still in boxes that Castiel refused to completely unpack for fear of having to repack it all and move again. Where they lived at any given time depended on Dean’s paranoia that they would be hurt sooner rather than later acting up, and this had proved to be a wearisome task to endure.

He collapsed onto the living room couch and clicked the power button on the TV remote, currently content to watch what happened to be on where he had left it from last night. It was a sitcom of some sort, surely a rerun or a marathon, because one unusual episode followed another, and the one after that, etc. Lying there though, with his head on a scratchy pillow and the rest of him underneath a similarly itchy blanket, it was far too easy to drift off to sleep.

/

“Cas.” A nearby voice had just woke him up, and Castiel rubbed his sleepy eyes for a moment before opening them.

“Dean.” He greeted drowsily, suddenly face to face with his husband; he propped himself up on his elbow.

“Hey babe.” Dean leaned forward from his cross-legged position on the floor, gently kissing his husband.

“You’re home early.” Castiel murmured once the thought occurred to him – Dean wasn’t supposed to be home until Sunday and it was Friday.

“Yeah.” Dean reassured, shifting his position from the floor to beside his husband on the couch. “We were done with that case in Indiana sooner than expected.”

Castiel nodded his understanding with a smile – he had missed Dean, despite all their recent arguments. No, he especially missed him because of all their recent arguments; Dean’s presence wasn’t the same comforting, warm one he had grown so fond of when he was stressed.

“Where are the kids?”

“At my sister’s.” Castiel grinned a bit with a shrug of his shoulders. “She insisted.”

Dean laughed at this for some reason and wrapped an arm around his partner, pulling him closer and planting a kiss on his forehead.

Castiel let himself fold into Dean’s embrace, clasping his own two hands behind Dean’s back and holding the man tightly against him.

“I missed you, Dean.”

“I missed you too.”

Castiel pulled away slightly, loosening his hold as he pressed a kiss into Dean’s lips, delighting at their warm saccharine sweetness. Dean’s fingers pressed into his sides, alluring him to move into him, straddling one of his husband’s legs as one hand rested on the back of his neck, the other in his hair.

Dean’s tongue glided across Castiel’s lips, spurring his own tongue forward in the most desperate, uncontrolled display of affection he had exhibited in a long time. Dean softly chuckled, a menacing, but wonderfully enticing sound, that made his heart stammer in its beating and his cheeks flush with the tenderness of the situation.

Teeth nipped at bottom lips, tongues, faster and harder and with more passion than they’d used in months – Castiel grunted as he was dropped onto their bed, the cold sheets reviving his sleepy senses almost instantly.

Dean was back on top of him within minutes, kissing, licking and nipping his neck, only pausing to practically rip off their shirts with an irritated groan. Castiel twisted his fingers into his husband’s hair, pulling him back down into their kiss, weakly thrusting his hips up into him, reveling in the instantaneous returned action before Dean was kissing down his chest, sucked at his nipple, kissing him again, shoving his tongue all but down Castiel’s throat, claiming him again, like the first time.

_Belts jingled, zippers were undone and his heart pounded violently in his chest – it was all happening so fast. So incredibly, irrevocably fast, yet Castiel couldn’t bring himself to care. He loved the vigorous way Dean claimed him, ground into him, made fresh pink marks in his skin, and the way he reacted at the drunk, sloppy, filthy curses he whispered in his ear, begging him for more, more, **more**. _

“Dean.” He moaned at the relentless heat that danced and swirled around his cock. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he brought his head up slightly, watching with wholesome fascination at the way his lover’s head bobbed up and down along his dick, waves of hot, rippling pleasure cascading its way from his core.

_He always came fast for Dean, though he never meant to. He really did want to turn the tables on him that time too, but he wasn’t having it today. Getting back from a hunt usually did that to him. It put him on edge, almost jumpy if it weren’t for the situation._

Everything turned white, his eyes rolled up into his skull as he thrust forward and groaned loudly, not caring whether anyone heard him or not. This was Dean, this was his husband who was finally home and nothing could take the happiness that came from this away from him right now.

_He sat up again, kissing Dean this time, hungrily drinking in every last bit of him that he could, the sensational effects of his orgasm still humming through his system as he did so. Dean pulled away, a small groan escaping his lips as he did so before pressing his lips against Castiel’s ear, murmuring flawless promises into his ear._

/

He really didn’t want to do this, as it was single-handedly the worst, and last thing he wanted to do again. Dean didn’t want to leave again. Didn’t want to leave his family again, leave little Jo not understanding why Daddy was never home, and why Alfie never got to be held by Daddy anymore. She was always curious about that.

But more than anything, he didn’t want to leave Cas again.

He traced a lazy hand up and down his husband’s spine, watching the sleepy face he knew he wouldn’t see for a while again – Dean swallowed hard before finally going through with what needed to be done. He wouldn’t leave without an explanation – that would make things even crappier than they already were.

“Babe, wake up.” Dean cooed, pressing a kiss into Castiel’s forehead.

His partner had a sharp intake of breath as he woke like he always had, as though he had to stop being so calm and peaceful the second he woke up. “What is it?” The sleepy voice asked, drowsy blue eyes staring into his, one hand clasping around Dean’s waist, holding him tight again.

“I have to go.” Dean finally confessed between kisses.

“You just got home, dear.”

“I know.”

Neither of them said anything for a few moments, but Cas finally shattered the painful silence.

“Jo and Alfie miss you.” His tone was so soft and sincere, and it was almost enough to make Dean want to go looking for his phone to call Sam and tell him to wait a few days, though he knew he couldn’t.

“I miss them too.” He sat up, draping the blanket he had been curled up under back over Cas, but not making eye contact with him once.

“How long?” Castiel asked after another extended period of silence.

“How long what?”

“How long will you be gone this time?”

Dean shook his head. “Still don’t know.”

“Will you call us then?”

Their eyes met again as Dean tied his shoe once more, and he nodded gravely. “Yeah.”

“Is that a promise?” Cas had moved forward in the bed so that they were close together again.

“It’s a promise.” 


	13. They Learn Fast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should apologize in advance for what you're about to read. Where my muse was the day I wrote this, I have no idea.   
> Also sorry for the actual content that may or may not give you a sad. -shrug-

“Hey Alfie,” Dean cooed as he bent down over the bars of the crib, scooping the almost six-month old baby in his arms. “Oh you’ve grown, haven’t you?” He coos again, holding him underneath his arms as he moves over to the rocking chair. The doctor says he doesn’t need as much babying to put Alfie to sleep anymore, but he sure seems to like the rocking chair anyways, even if it’s just for sitting with someone.

Dean sits down in the chair, carefully placing Alfie on his lap, holding his sides firmly so he can sit up properly. “How’s that, little guy?”

Alfie makes a sort of squeal in response and wiggles around, making himself fall forward, since he couldn’t exactly fall any other direction. Steadying the baby between his hands again, Dean starts bouncing his knees, letting a grin spread across his face as the baby bursts into uncontrollable peals of laughter.

Aflie’s smile only grows when he hears his Papa walk in the room.

“Pa-pa!”

“Hi Alfie!” Cas called back to the baby, his face lighting up at the new word’s Jo taught him.

“He learns fast.” Cas adds, kneeling down beside the rocking chair, glancing between his husband and the baby who sits squirming happily between his Daddy’s hands.

“Sure does.” Dean grins again, affectionately bringing Alfie against him while Cas went to get the extra chair from the corner of the room.

The baby takes a handful of his daddy’s shirt in his tiny hand, and Dean grins – he remembers when Jo was just as small, if not even tinier and would spend all the time she could grabbing onto things, including Cas’ nose or Dean’s ear if she could reach. She was more of a touchy-feely kind of baby, he realizes with a smile, knowing full well how she still was like that, even as she was nearing her seventh birthday.

They spend the next few minutes sitting there, taking turns talking to Alfie and making silly faces at him, making him laugh and asking him what Daddy’s name was, what his teddy bear was called until Cas suggested he go say good night to Jo while he put the baby to sleep. Dean complied, passing Alfie into his husband’s arm, giving them both a peck on the forehead as he went.

But before he could get halfway out the door of the nursery, there was the unmistakable sound of glass shattering and an earsplitting shriek filled the house.

“Don’t move!” Dean barked as he took a few steps toward the linen closet, where he knows a gun is hidden.

The command was truly meant for the person who just _fucking broke in_ , but he was grateful that Cas was being just as compliant and keeping the baby quiet.

He ran across the hallway and knocked Jo’s bedroom door open from its jarred state, positioning the gun at the nothing before him – the bedroom was totally sound, the only thing remnant of the shriek and crash being broken glass across the carpet, dotted with blood in a line that grew thicker and thicker as it drew closer to the window, where it pooled all along the windowsill.

Panic coursed through Dean’s veins as he cautiously stepped over the shards of broken glass sticking out of the carpet towards the crumpled note on the bed, cursing under his breath that whatever thing did this, stole his baby girl would _pay_.

“Winchester:

            Hope you don’t mind me borrowing your little girl, Dean. She’s a real cutie and if you want her back you’re going to come meet us at the old warehouse outside town. You will come at night and you will come alone or else your precious baby girl and the rest of that horrendously adorable family of yours feel the pain.

We’ll be meeting shortly.”


	14. The Inner Winchester

When Jo woke up, it was still pretty dark. There was a dull ache in the back of her head too, she noticed as she scanned about her surroundings. A window was open with billowing curtains right above where she lay, which was soft, squishy and undoubtedly warm. A bed? It felt like a bred, but it sure wasn’t hers. Where was she?

As she sat up, the dull ache grew and throbbed against her skull, seemed to press her back down into the bed – where was that from? She couldn’t remember much of last night. She remembered being at home for once and having dinner with Daddy and Papa and Alfie. Alfie was finally big enough to use the highchair and Papa didn’t have to hold him on his lap anymore. He and Daddy were really happy about that, but Jo couldn’t figure out why. She had gotten to help Papa put Alfie to bed after her bath, and either Daddy or Papa – she couldn’t remember – took her to bed after that. The rest was a mess of nighttime and darkness, but the thick, muddy splashes of red fear broke up the blackness, making little Jo feel like something horribly bad had happened.

Standing up now, Jo tiptoed across the room, where she could see some dim light passing beneath the door. She gave the door a push, only to find that it was locked; there was a large bar that held the heavy door closed, and probably kept her in the dark room, but why? She could touch it by just stretching her arms, but it didn’t budge when she tried to pull it in any direction. Maybe if she pushed it harder?

The idea had come to her head quickly and within moments, Jo was taking a running start, arms outstretched and ready to latch onto the heavy metal bar to give it a big, strong push. The edge of the bar was really sharp though, she realized too late as it dug into the palm of her hand, piercing the sensitive, pale skin, marring it with her own thick crimson blood.

Jo let herself sink to the ground, whimpering in pain, and cradling her wounded hand tightly against her chest, willing it to heal.

The cut hurt, and the blood scared her. She was all alone in a dark room, couldn’t remember how she got here, had no idea what happened in the menacing darkness from hopefully last night, and even less of an idea of where Daddy and Papa were. The latter was what scared her the most – her daddies were always around to keep her safe; they kept the darkness away and made sure the monster under her bed wouldn’t hurt her.

Were there monsters under the bed in here? The question popped up in her head as she sat against the door, and she crawled across the ground, being careful not to let her bleeding hand touch the ground. Under the bed was even darker than the room, and as far as she could see, it was only dust. No monsters, just dust. That was okay, right?

Climbing back up onto the bed, Jo almost lost her footing on the shaky frame of the furniture, clawed for something to keep her up, catching the billowing curtain in her bloody hand and yanking it down with her. It came tumbling down across the squishy bed, clattering against her head and the floor only a moment after she hit the ground, bringing back the ache in her head even stronger than before.

Clutching her head, becoming more and more sure that the pulsing pain in her head would never stop, Jo wept. Her head hurt her, the darkness hurt her, her bleeding hand, the loneliness, the confusion, the passing time – it all hurt her at once, in a way she didn’t even know was possible. She struggled to wipe her tears, and with every attempt to dry her face of the tears, more blood was smeared across her face, got in her hair, and was everywhere it wasn’t supposed to be. Her knees brought up to her chest, Jo sobbed, cried out for Daddy, for Papa, for Uncle Sam, Grandpa, _someone_ to come and help her, to get her out of the suffocating darkness before it was too late.

/

The child’s screaming echoed through the hallways just as resonantly as they had when her door was closed, and the only sounds heard through the building being the fearful whimpers and cries for her daddies. This was what the Winchesters had come to? A sniveling little blonde girl with severe dependency on her absent parents? Belial _loved_ it.

She had ordered two of her newest monkeys to bring the child to her. She was generous tonight, she believed, seeing as she had allowed the kid to wake up on her own. Maybe that wasn’t so generous, seeing as little miss Jo Winchester had found a way to hurt herself and start sobbing in such a short amount of time, but who could be blamed for that? Definitely not her.

The shrieking was growing louder by the second and Belial shifted eagerly in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs beneath her gown, finally deciding on a rather stately and regal pose in the throne: right leg crossed over the left and her arms upon the rests. She didn’t dare move as the monkeys shoved the tiny kid through the door, even if the blood-smeared face and tangled mop of blonde, bloodied hair was positively delightful.

“Good evening, Jo.”

Her greeting was responded to with more tears and fussing against the monkeys – hardly unexpected. The one and only surprising thing the kid uttered being a short, quiet sentence, twisted with her tears and fright: “I wanna go home.”

The villainess grinned at the child’s boldness. Maybe there _was_ half a Winchester in her – and that was going to make this game all the more exciting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you all enjoying this story so far?   
> I'd love to hear your opinions on it: feedback is awesome in all forms! :)


	15. Demonic Mommy

Belial was a good caretaker, if she did say so herself.

She should have definitely been a good mother, she thought while brushing through little Jo’s hair for the second time that day. It seemed to her that she might’ve been, had it not been for the fact that she and her deceased husband hadn’t been, oh, demons. The idea had come to her mind several times throughout their lovely marriage, Azazel being fully agreeable on the topic of raising their own wonderfully evil, demonic family. There were some rules in Hell about that though, and those in high ranks promptly squashed their desire.

Now, she entertained the idea of transforming Miss Jo into her perfect demon child, though she wouldn’t have much assistance in the actual act of doing so. She shrugged it off in favor of placing her attention upon the fact that Jo wouldn’t eat or drink anything they offered her and wouldn’t dare touch the small mountain of toys and trinkets for her to play with. The monkeys had been ordered to specially find those toys and bring them here with as little fuss as possible, and they were precious, as far as Belial understood. They were the toys she would have adored growing up: dolls with porcelain faces and silky clothing and a dollhouse with smaller dolls and pieces of furniture inside amongst others in the expressly created stash.

The longer Jo sat in silence, letting herself be ordered about to play or come close so her hair could be brushed again, the dimmer the little girl’s eyes became, the paler her skin and the more fragile she seemed overall. This was particularly concerning, seeing as Belial wanted the Winchesters to find their baby girl in better condition than they had ever seen her, just to make their lives that much more miserable before their throats were sliced open. That punishment was reserved for any accomplices they might have, though Belial would never share the delicious plan she had in store for Dean.

“Will you play with me?” The child’s soft voice suddenly rang out, jostling her out of her bloody daydream. Jo held a deck of playing cards in the palm of her hands, covering the bandaged wound on the one hand.

“Of course, my dear.” Belial grinned and gestured for Jo to pull up her short chair beside her throne-like.

Jo did as she was told, dragging the dinky wooden chair behind her in a way that caused  it to screech a bit on the wood floor. It was more like a small student’s desk and this was where the little girl set down her deck of cards.

“What game are we playing, Miss Jo?”

“Go Fish.”

Belial wasn’t sure whether the child’s solemn, unsmiling expression was funnier than the game she had chosen or whether it was the other way around. It _would_ be the only game a child knew how to play.

“Do you know how to play?” Jo’s eyes glittered a bit, though they were still hovering between grey and the desirable silvery blue.

Belial nodded, understanding the basic concept of the child’s game. “Give me my cards, dear.”

“Wait.”

Wait? For what?

Jo looked positively determined about something and wasn’t that just _precious_. “I want a trade.”

“A trade?” The conflicting desires to burst out laughing and to snarl at the insolent little girl bubbled up in her chest.

“Uh-huh. If I win, you have to let me go home.”

Interesting. “And if I win?”

Jo hesitated in her answer, but she seemed sure enough when she finally responded. “Then I’ll stay.”

“Fair enough. We have a deal, young lady.” She held out a long, slender hand to shake with; Jo took it eagerly, and if Belial didn’t know better, she might’ve guessed that a smile just passed over her face before dealing out the cards. Six for her, six for Jo.

Jo took her turn first, upon Belial’s request and inquired whether she had any eights. She had one and gave it to her. She then asked the same question, wanting her _damn_ eight back.

“You can’t do that.”

“And why not?”

“Because it’s cheating. You can only ask for cards when you have one in your hand.”

“How do you know I don’t have another eight?”

“Do you have another eight?”

“No.”

“That’s good, because you can’t keep cards for yourself if I ask for them.”

They went on with the game after this, Jo receiving more of Belial’s cards than she liked, and Belial having to pull more cards from the deck than her hand could reasonably hold. The game went on and on like this until they were both out of cards and both participants had created their own individual stacks of four of whichever card they managed to win. Belial had three stacks of four; Jo had the other ten, meaning that Jo was the winner of this game.

“Two out of three.” Belial demanded, not wanting to lose the leverage she had on the kid. What in Hell’s holy name had she been t _hinking_ when she agreed to this?

Jo nodded, shuffled and dealt the cards again, and they went again. Belial won this time, and up until the end result of their third game, she had been feeling rather confident in her ability to keep the child. Jo won the third round and stood up from her chair after they had put the deck back together.

“Thank you,” she mumbled before spinning around on her bare heels and taking off towards the open door the room.

Did that really just happen? Did she just lose the only leverage and hope she had been longing to have for so long?

“Boss? The kid says you let her leave?” One of the monkeys was standing in the doorway, his hands tucked behind his back.

She nodded gravely, her eyes flickering between hazel and red for a few moments before she turned her gaze upwards to glare at him. “Let her go, but don’t believe for even a moment that she’ll get very far before the others walk right into the trap.” Her most award-winning, wicked grin graced her lips once more as she stood and began a slow, languid pace around the room. It would only be a matter of time now. 


	16. Still No Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I just wanted to hurry this story up, so you guys are getting two chapters today!  
> You're welcome! :D

Sam wasn’t really sure what the plan was anymore.

And the more he, Bobby, Dean and Castiel talked it over and over, the more time they lost, the more likely it was that his niece wasn’t going to make it out of this disaster and the more Dean and Castiel looked like they were about to either start crying, screaming or ripping their hair out. So it seemed like a great thing when they finally all piled into the Impala, Dean and Cas in the front seat, Sam in the back. Everyone but Dean, who was driving, naturally, was busy loading up their guns, sharpening a knife or something, all while being mid-prayer that they didn’t get pulled over by a cop and put into jail for one, speeding, and two, having a _full arsenal_ of weapons in the trunk of the car and then some in their hands. It didn’t seem like something that would fly with the cops, even in Sioux Falls.

It turned out Dean knew just where their villainess would be based on her note that he was adamant about not showing to anyone. He promised that he had hyper-analyzed the scrap of paper and was 100% positive about where they were going. All they had needed was a plan.

They had pulled the car up to an abandoned warehouse in about twenty minutes of speeding down the highway. And go figure – a demon-ness and her slaves _would_ be camped out in the rankest, darkest place in town.

Still no sign of a plan.

They unloaded the trunk of the Impala, each loading themselves up with as many weapons as one could reasonably hold. Dean had the Colt, claiming that he was still a better shot than Sammy and it was _his_ little girl they were trying to save, wasn’t it? And duh, it was. The front doors swung open almost instantaneous with Sam and Bobby’s push, expecting to come face to face with an armada of demons, but nope. The place was just as empty, dark and run-down as it looked on the outside. That was never good.

They decided to split up, Dean taking the left half and Sam and Cas taking the right. Sam didn’t mind doing this with Castiel, the guy sure learned quickly and he had a great knack for being silent when he needed to be, like right now. He’d always been sort of a quiet guy though, Sam thought idly as they turned the first corner into a hallway lit by tiny flickering candles all along the floor against the walls. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu walking along with Cas though before remembering that they’d been in a similar situation once: it was against Azazel that time though. Somehow Cas had gotten roped into the whole ordeal along with the guy’s younger brother, who didn’t end up quite so lucky. The memory was set up in a similar way to where they were now. Before they’d been in another gigantic, dying building too, but whether it was a warehouse or something else, Sam couldn’t remember. He only recalled how silent and empty the entire building seemed until _that one moment_. Shit hit the fan all at once then, demons had swarmed in from everywhere, practically oozing out of the walls, but somehow they managed to handle all of them while Dean had snuck off behind everything over to Azazel with the Colt and –

“Sam?” It was Castiel, and they were standing at a point where the dimly lit hallway divided into two.

“We need to split up.” Sam murmured, trying to decide which one he’d take.

Cas nodded. “I’ll take the left and we’ll meet back in fifteen minutes.”

“Good.”

They split up and Sam briefly doubted the choice; leaving his brother’s husband alone in a possibly demon-filled warehouse didn’t seem like the best thing to do. Then again, what choice did they have? They didn’t exactly have bountiful time to take both hallways together just to be safe.

Sam marched on through the endless hallways that never changed, and it dawned on him for a moment that he might be walking in a circle and the damn demons could’ve pulled one over on him just now and he’d be dead in a heart–

“Sam!”

He spun around at a kid’s voice, and almost yelped with joy when he saw Jo tearing down the hallway towards him. She was in tears by the time she finally collapsed into his leg, clinging to him like her life depended on it. Well, it might.

“Jo, are you hurt?” He knelt whispered down to her as he knelt, trying to get a better angle to see her, rather than the usual three-foot difference. 

She shook her head into his leg, wiping her face on his jeans in the process, but God, he was relieved at this.

“C’mon, your dads are here too, we’re going to get you home.”

She perked up a bit at this and nodded, standing up from her curled up position and took his hand, stretching up in the same way he stretched down as they shuffled along as fast as they could through the hallways.

“Sam?” Jo asked, looking up once she had settled down a tiny bit.

“Yeah?”

“Why does all this bad stuff happen to us? We’re good people aren’t we?”

He didn’t have an answer for her; he shook his head and frowned.

She pouted a bit, clearly hoping for that answer and Sam sighed, knowing he’d have to share the crappy answer that had just come to mind.

“It’s because we’re not normal.” That much of an answer was sufficient for him now, though he knew that in a kid’s mind it sure as hell wouldn’t be. It was all that he could offer for the time being though, at least until they got to safety. Wherever that was.

She was silent as they kept walking in near darkness, but she seemed to have a basic understanding, which was nice.

“Sammy?” Dean’s voice echoed down the hallway, a little too loud, too raised for the situation, where someone could easily hear them… where no one had heard them. Nothing was happening for a reason, he got it now, and that sent a lively chill down his spine.

“Daddy!” Jo let go of his hand and darted over to Dean once he was in sight, and though their presence was comforting to him too, he was still firmly on edge.

“Jo!” He scooped her up, hugging her tiny frame to himself and kissing her hair.

Sam shifted in his place to get a good look around the corner he and Castiel had split up only ten minutes ago.

“Dude, come on, Cas went down this way.” He nagged at his older brother, tugging on his arm a bit, feeling all to anxious that something was going to jump out at them or they wouldn’t make it out of here in time.

Dean finally got moving but he wasn’t happy. “You told him to go off on his own?”

“No,” Sam snapped back, “he wanted to split up. Don’t blame me for this.” He picked up the pace, striding ahead of Dean for a few moments, listening to Dean wordlessly grumble something, unable to swear because of Jo on his hip.

They don’t get very far before Castiel nearly collides head first into them, looking startled to see all of them together, but his face lights up when he lays his eyes on Dean and Jo. It’s sweet, it really is, but something’s wrong here. Horribly, _horribly_ wrong.

But Dean lets Castiel take Jo out of his arms anyways, and watches with stifled glee while Cas kisses and hugs their little daughter, who’s finally safe and sound.

Cas takes it further than Dean though, coos to her, speaks to her in a tiny voice that he would never use, calls her sweetie, honey, baby, love, too many names that Sam’s pretty sure he’s never used before.

It’s all happening in slow motion, but it’s whipping by him faster than the speed of light at the same time and Sam can’t tell what’s going on.

He doesn’t know what’s going on, and they didn’t have a plan before this, but maybe he has an idea of one now.

He’s already tensing in anticipation of a reaction he’s praying won’t come. “Cristo.”

Castiel twitches violently, nearly drops Jo and glares up at Sam with wide, shimmering black eyes.

“It took you long enough.” It says with a depraved, wicked smirk.


	17. Sorry, Castiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance for what this chapter may or may not do to you.

Castiel sees the black smoke swirling in thin, strong ribbons around his ankles and he feels both frozen and on fire, unsure of what to do in this situation to save himself, to protect the ones he loves. He’s positive there must be a way, but the sinister plumes of black smoke are twirling their ways around him and he’s trapped, nearly encaged in it, except his throat is working, crying for help, even if he can’t move and save himself.

He clenches his jaw shut, grinding his teeth together as if to prove a point to the smoke that’s trying to strangle him and is somehow succeeding. He holds on as long as he can, though any kind of thought process he had before is dying rapidly as he’s finally forced to gasp for breath, the demon’s smoke shoving itself down his throat, choking and suffocating him as it makes itself an unwilling home in his body.

A way out, there _had_ to be a way out.

“ _Sorry, Castiel_ ,” a woman’s unfamiliar voice rings out in his head, and he wants to cringe at it, but his limbs aren’t functioning for him anymore. “ _I win this time, but I might let you enjoy the show._ ”

Castiel doesn’t have to ask to know what that means and he wants to sob. His real self, now his inner self is screaming and hopelessly trapped in an ever-shrinking cage made of fire while his outer self, the damn demon is flexing her fingers, taking a few steps, adjusting herself to his body.

“ _I think I like it in here._ ”

~

He blacked out, though Belial let him have his vision in flashes, flashes of seeing Sam and then Dean. Flashes of holding Jo, who looked so disgruntled and unhappy it made him want to hold her forever, to soothe her the right way, not the dreaded coddling the demon was giving her. And then there was what Sam said, and everything went black again.

It was only darkness though, and all his other senses were working out of time excluding his eyes, which offered him no relief. He could only feel what he assumed was Jo’s tiny squirming body in one arm, only hear her pitiful cries for Dean and Sam and for Papa to come back, those cries followed by moments of horrible, blissful silence before it was shattered by a crack, a gasp, and a pleading, feeble voice. But even that stopped given time too, and then came the taste of blood on his tongue and the feeling of something slippery and wet on his hands.

This was all too much; it was both overwhelming and excruciating, Castiel not having the faintest idea of what was going on, but altogether feeling too much and creating pictures in his blackened mind of what was actually happening around him. He internally cringed at the fact that this damn demon was probably terrorizing his family, people he loved dearly in his own skin. Making Jo shriek and cry, plastering his hands with blood and oh God, was that Dean trying to talk to the demon?

Castiel’s trapped inner self was thrashing about now, screaming in the demon’s head as loud as he could, relishing in the fact that this wouldn’t actually hurt him, only give her tremendous pain and him an opportunity to get out.

/

“Took you long enough.” The words that cascaded off Castiel’s tongue weren’t his and Dean could tell all of a sudden, understanding much too slowly and much too fast what exactly was happening.

He just handed over his baby girl to a demon. _A demon wearing his husband_. God, this fucker was going to die slow and painful if Dean had any say in it.

But all of a sudden, the ground wasn’t below his feet and the wall was denting outwards to accommodate the force of his body being slammed into it; Dean had only witnessed the demon raise Cas’ hand and do it before the blow struck him like eighteen freight trains. _Shit_.

He groaned pathetically, falling onto his hands and knees but still trying to stand. He could see Sam on the ground across the room from him, unmoving. He winced, wanting nothing more than to scramble over to his baby brother, shake him and make sure he was awake and okay. There was no way he could do that and he knew, but he wasn’t going to let the damn demon win so easily. The Colt was in his jacket pocket – Dean jammed his hand into the deep pocket, fingering the gun for half a moment and pulled it out, glaring up at the demon in the form of something he loved.

“Don’t bother.” It hissed, flicking one wrist gently, causing Dean’s to do a full 360, dropping the gun in favor of clutching it to his chest at the pain. Fuck, when did he get so soft?

It was standing in front of Dean now, Cas’ black boots and dirty jeans crowding his vision; a hand gripped at the short hair on his head, nails scraped his scalp, making him look up and watch Cas’ ethereal, perfect blue eyes switch to a shining black. Dean cringed and tried to lower his gaze, feeling as though he was going to vomit all over the place if he had to keep looking at the man he married, smirking down at him with black eyes. And to think that he’d almost gotten them out of this sickening mess of being dragged back into hunting, to think that he thought they could avoid the fights that shaped his childhood and ruined his perspective on people, to think that the way of life that had murdered so many people he loved would spare him a second time around – was he fucking _blind_?

“Oh, Dean,” the thing sighed as it kneeled down to his level, tightening its grip on the back of his neck, “there was absolutely nothing you could do to stop this. I planned all of this for you. It was hard work, but _damn_ , is it worth it.” The words were all wrong and this wasn’t him, it wasn’t his Castiel.

It still wasn’t when it took the knife out of Cas’ pocket and held the clean blade in front of Dean’s face, before slicing straight through Cas’ stomach; thick, dark red blood spilled over it, gushing out in hot steady streams while Dean could only sit, powerless, watching and _dying_. His voice was gone, his brother was gone, Jo was probably gone too, Cas was definitely gone, everything just _gone, dead_. “See, Dean? Now _both_ of our husbands are dead.”

Its voice rang sinister and clear in the old hunter’s ears as that same damn knife slid right into his chest, a sharp, painful slice that snapped one thing in him after another; blood gushed and spilled, pain tore at his chest and through his veins, but everything was slowing down like gears in an engine until finally it all just… stopped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the epilogue!


	18. Epilogue

It’s been eleven years now, and Jo is seventeen.

She turned seventeen relatively recently, actually, about half a month ago. Sam had mailed her a birthday present that arrived the day of the occasion, which was awfully considerate of him, she thought. He’d given her a good present too: a thick, clean sketchpad and giant cardboard box of art supplies that she’d been begging months for – pencils, markers, pastels, paints – the full nine yards. Her uncle was good at giving presents, Jo thought while laying on her bed, absent-mindedly drumming her fingers against an open, blank page of the sketchpad at her side. Grandpa Bobby gave her a present too, but it was almost always the same gift every year: a check for $30 and a goofy birthday card from the drug store with a googly-eyed dog or something on the front and “Happy Birthday Jo, don’t waste this” scrawled on the inside in blue pen. Not that she minded the extra thirty bucks. Bobby was thinking of her and it was the thought that counted, right?

That’s what Daddy used to say, anyways. He wasn’t the best at wrapping presents, Jo recalled, staring up at the ceiling. Whenever he had to wrap one and give it to someone, he’d give a free apology too. She grinned, remembering that that was the reason why Papa always wrapped presents at their house.

Jo rolled over onto her stomach and fumbled with the handle of the nightstand drawer, cringing at the obnoxious, squeaky way it opened. What she was looking for sat beneath a pile of papers and books she’d finished reading; it was a scrapbook that blended in quite well with the disarray.

It was full of her favorite and most precious pictures, or the ones that she still had anyways. Most of them had gotten lost when the movers were dragging everything out of their house that she, Bobby or Sam didn’t grab and keep for themselves. The three of them had been relentless in salvaging the pictures before the entire house was gutted though, and Jo had fond memories of what the old home actually looked like in addition to the photograph of each and every room in the house they’d taken before leaving for the last time.

Those pictures were first in the lineup, displaying her colorful bedroom with toys in all areas, the cute little kitchen with its too short appliances, Daddy and Papa’s room with its gigantic bed, Alfie’s crib with his teddy bear and baby blanket, the empty garage and the coziest living room anyone could ever live in. Looking at the pictures made her homesick in ways Jo didn’t want to deal with, and she reminded herself at least fifteen times that Bobby’s home was a good a place as any and that she’d left the old place a very long time ago. The feeling wouldn’t be shaken though, and Jo sighed, knowing that the reason for this was because she never truly got to say goodbye to the house. She hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to Daddy, Papa and Alfie either, she denounced with a sigh, dropping her head for a few moments and letting the tears stream down her cheeks.

The memory of the last time she saw Alfie started: sitting on Papa’s hip, in footie pajamas, before Jo went to bed. The baby’s dark hair was ruffled and curly, sticking up in some places that Daddy liked at the time. He said it looked like Papa’s hair in the morning. Papa had responded quickly that the baby’s sleepy green eyes were identical to Dean’s in the morning too. Alfie had learned how to say her name by then and whenever he could see her, he would shout it for the whole world to hear – it was Jo’s favorite thing in the whole world. Daddy and Papa liked it too, but they just seemed to like it when Alfie would talk to them and shout out the words he knew for different things, like his bottle, blanket, teddy bear, and occasionally the one-syllable names “da” and “pa” that had so clearly meant Daddy and Papa.

But just as soon as that memory provided itself, it was engulfed and drowned in a different one that was much less soothing, to say the absolute least: how Papa’s eyes turned jet-black and he wasn’t Papa anymore, followed by one of the demons trying to hold Jo next, except she was kicking and screaming and crying for her parents, the real ones. One horrible thing led to another, and her childish eyes couldn’t be drawn away from the blood that poured out of Daddy’s chest and Papa’s stomach and the already dead look that had passed over Daddy’s green eyes when the thing inside Papa had grabbed him by the neck. Daddy looked like he had given up, and that _still_ terrified Jo in ways she couldn’t explain to anyone. Then Papa’s head snapped upwards and he let go of Daddy, and stuff that looked like a lot of black smoke shot out of him and drove up through the vents in the ceiling. Papa had nearly collapsed on top of Daddy, catching himself and clutching his stomach, even while the blood gushed out around his fingers and he winced in pain. His eyes were blue again and he was holding Daddy’s face in one trembling hand and mumbling something to him, staring into those dead, _dead_ green eyes as his own blue ones were already losing their lively sparkle.

Jo gasped for air, choking on her own tears and half-wondered how looking through the entire scrapbook of happy pictures before the incident had brought her down so low. It was crushing, in so many more ways than one, and even when the tears stopped, Jo shook, her own arms hugged around her as if trying to keep the limbs together, so she wouldn’t fall apart.

Standing up from the bed, Jo rubbed her eyes and blinked away the lightheaded feeling, heading for the bathroom on the other end of the hall. She could hear Bobby and Sam working away at something downstairs, though she wasn’t sure what, just glad that they hadn’t heard her breakdown. Letting them see it either wouldn’t be a good thing, so Jo stood in the bathroom, drying her cheeks, splashing her face with water, willing it to return to at least something that resembled its normal color.

Forever tangled curls of blonde hair and too sharp blue-grey eyes stared back over puffy red eyelids and a flushed face, even after twenty minutes of trying to soothe it. Sometimes the water helped, sometimes it didn’t. It didn’t this time, and now she could only cross her fingers and hope Bobby and Sam wouldn’t notice. They never knew how to comfort her, not the way she wanted, but then again, no one could ever do it. She was always best to do that alone, in the solidarity of her own thoughts and mind, where she could pretend that Daddy and Papa would’ve been the best at this. And of course she knew that that may or may not have been true, but regardless of its truth, it was a comforting thought.

When Jo finally lifted her head, she was standing in her bedroom with the door still wide open; a boy stood in the middle of the room, with a black jacket, jeans and folded arms. He didn’t look very old, probably ten or eleven, tops, with fluffy dark hair and striking green eyes – so why did he seem so familiar?

“Jo Winchester?” The boy asked, his voice softer than Jo had expected; she nodded, eyeing him warily, unsure of whether to sprint out of the room and get help or to interrogate this kid.

The boy grinned and unfolded his arms, letting one drop to his side while the other went straight forward out to Jo, a gun clenched tightly in his hand. “It’s been a while.”

“No,” Jo murmured after an immeasurable amount of silence, but found herself saying the word over and over and over again in disbelief, the shock that she should’ve felt moments ago ramming into her with tremendous power and force, the vivid memory of a happy, smiling baby with dark hair and green eyes providing itself and sending her stumbling backwards a few steps.

The boy just nodded, or what was supposed to be him anyways, that same sweet smile twisting itself into a wide, horrid, blindingly white grin. “I believe you called me Alfie.”

And that was when everything slowed down.

The trigger was pulled and a too familiar, too loud bang of the gun filled the air before the silence did.

It was too quiet all at once; Jo’s gasps for breath weren’t loud enough, sounding just as muted as the smack of her palms against her chest where the bullet had lodged itself, the click of her knees buckling and the slam of her body against the ground.

She was only vaguely aware of the thudding footsteps on the floor while the blood rushed in her ears and heart thumped wildly against her chest; new footsteps followed from another direction but they were getting softer and softer.

Someone was turning down the volume on Jo’s life and turning the darkness down too, so that the longer she had to stare at the white ceiling of her room, the more it blurred and faded.

The pain wasn’t even palpable anymore. It was everywhere and nowhere, everything and nothing at all.

But just as quickly as it lodged itself within the shaking body of Jo Winchester, it ended everything.

Everything was hazy and blurry and fading like nothing she’d ever known, but the relief that flooded her brain in the final moments was overwhelming. _Finally_ , she thought with a tone of thought that was more triumphant than she’d ever believed she could sound – _finally_.

_Finally_ she’d get to see her parents again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read this story and kept up with it throughout!   
> This was my first Supernatural fanfiction and I hope it went well.   
> Feel free to leave a comment with feedback or a question or a concern – anything!   
> Thank you again! :)


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